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adamarinayu · 4 years ago

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Since I can’t draw right now (it’s like 1 AM) I decided I’d just write things down about Domestic DUno AU (I still don’t have a proper name for it!!) so here we go~

Info below the cut to spare the mobile users my ramblings~~

BACKSTORY STUFF

-Donald first became PK as a teenager (14 or 15), pulling petty pranks and avenging perceived wrongdoings. He ended up accidentally becoming a hero after stopping a thief and unknowingly saving a young girl’s life, and he realized he could direct his temper, anger and frustration not at making other people miserable, but at protecting others. Gyro, who went to school with Donald (Donald and Della attended a private school that would accommodate their adventure schedule; Gyro, being the absolute genius he is, attended on a scholarship) was there and ended up helping, being the one to inadvertently provide PK with the weapon he fended off the criminals with. PK talked to Gyro and the two became partners in crime-fighting that way.

-After deciding to become a hero, it was small-town villains mostly that he dealt with. Thieves, and the like. He didn’t start fighting mutants and those kinds of things until he was 17 or so, and the Evronians didn’t show up until he was 18. This is when Scrooge gave him a summer job at his newly acquired tower, figuring since Donald didn’t want to go with him and Della on a three-month adventure (as Donald was needed in Duckburg, he couldn’t be gone for three months!!) then he may as well work and earn a little money. As Duckworth was still alive, Duckworth was in charge of the manor, so Donald didn’t need to worry about upkeeping the mansion.

-Donald met Uno after a failed attempt to fight the Evronians, and they partnered up, with Uno providing Donald with otherworldly advanced tech that Gyro... would probably understand if given the time and chance (come on, he built a time machine out of a bathtub, he could totally understand future tech). After the first battle with the Evronians that Donald eventually wins, he realized that the game had just just 10x more dangerous. Between working on his doctorate and interning for Scrooge’s science department (something the scientists working for Scrooge were salty about), Gyro didn’t have much time to work on new and improved inventions for PK so when Uno contacted Gyro about him stepping down from helping PK, Gyro agreed, acknowledging that the mysterious Uno Ducklair would probably be a better benefactor for the hero. He didn’t know PK’s identity, though, so he didn’t take the memory erasing candy. Instead he focused on his work.

-Years passed this way, with Donald and Uno working together. Of course Donald had his other adventures, such as with Jose and Panchito and Mickey and all them lovely folks, but Uno was his closest confidante and biggest supporter. He was the one he vented his frustrations with Della and Scrooge to, and the one to give him advice on how to deal with it and talk to them about it all.

-At some point during this time, Gladstone finds out Donald is PK. Of course it happens in the typical Lucky way- him finding out saved Donald’s life. Gladstone is shaken up by the knowledge that his cousin/brother is in danger every day and has almost died multiple times. Gladstone becomes a sort of third member of the whole Crime Fighting thing, yep, you heard it right, Cloverleaf is real here. He figures if he’s out in the field with Donald, then Donald will never die because of Gladstone’s supernaturally good luck. Uno, while frustrated with Gladstone’s unpredictable and illogical luck, accepts this. Donald is less keen because he doesn’t want Gladstone in danger’s path but when the gander makes up his mind it’s made up, yo.

-PK and Cloverleaf (CL from here on out) and Uno work together for 3 years before the Spear of Selene incident, where Donald is suddenly left with three eggs. Donald’s priorities now shifted, he quits being a hero and buys the houseboat so he can raise the triplets without Scrooge’s influence. Gladstone does what he can to help while trying to continue to protect Duckburg, and while watching CL on the news Donald has the sudden realization that Duckburg still needs him- new parent or not. So he (metaphorically!!) throws the eggs into their pram, rushes to Ducklair Tower, begs Lyla to watch the eggs for him and rushes off to CL’s aid.

-After the danger is over, Donald collects the eggs, thanks Lyla for her help, then meets up with CL and Uno on the 151st floor where they have a serious conversation. Donald acknowledges that Duckburg still needs PK, but Della’s children also need him. The three eventually come to the conclusion that the kids would be raised by PK and Uno there in the Tower, where they would be safe- and they would be trained so they’re ready for anything thrown at them. (Gladstone is actually the one who is like “nah cuz you be their dad I’m not cut out for that, I’ll be the cool uncle, I don’t wanna live in the tower! No offense Uno” so it isn’t like Donald just decided to leave him out of the parenting)

-The eggs hatch and Donald names them sensible (AKA not Della’s list) names (and pronounces Llewellyn correctly dammit) and Donald and Uno have a time learning hands-on how to be parents. (“I’ve read twenty different parenting guides in the last five seconds and they’re all saying different things, Donald, WHAT DO WE DO-”) The whole “raising kids together” thing brings them even closer than before and forces them to have a chat about their feelings, too.

-When the triplets are small and starting to run around, Uno baby proofs everything. He has a hard time keeping them from escaping their playpen (which is essentially a huge room with an amazing view of the city, he doesn’t know why they’re so intent on escaping). Then eventually the inevitable happens- both Don and Glad end up stuck on the other side of the world for nearly a whole month, and Uno realizes taking care of three toddlers is much easier when you have a body. So while they’re gone, he balances his time between advising them on their mission, taking care of the triplets and building an android body that can handle an AI as advanced as him (throw out that “an AI who is only good could never make a full person” shit cuz Uno can be petty as hell, he’s a whole ass person even without Due yo). By the time Don and Glad get back he’s testing his prototype. Donald is thrilled, of course- his boyfriend has a body now!

-The triplets gain a sister! Everett brings a child to them one day, a little Coronan girl who was for reasons I haven’t decided yet cast out of her family and Everett, with his weird Enlightened Powers shit, went and found her and brought her back to the people he knew would take care of her well (considering his own past failures...). And so the triplets have a little sister who is an alien! Yee! Yes it’s Asveya (Ve). She came to them when she was ~2 and the triplets were 3 or 4, and as she didn’t have a name Donald named her after a friend he met as a child, when he regularly adventured with Scrooge and Della, and whom he ended up meeting again as a young adult.

-Uno perfects the body over time as he learns more things about being a person (he very purposefully leaves out pain receptors, though he includes the best parts of being a physical person ofc- he wants his cake and he wants to eat it too!). Everett decides now that Uno has a body, it was time to introduce him as his son officially and hand the business over to him (stating that it’ll be good for the kids if at least one of their parents had a proper job and income, since savings don’t last forever), and as the kids get older Donald begins training them so they’ll be able to take care of/protect themselves if need be. Uno creates a training field/obstacle course that is fun and age-appropriate, and by the time they’re ten they’re like little superheroes in training. They can give Webby a run for her money. Ve is less interested in being like PK and more interested in being like Uno- AKA the techie behind the gadgets.

-The triplets are already playing with some rudimentary pieces of tech Ve made, playing like they’re superheroes (or villains, gotta have someone to fight!). Uno finds out when he reviews the Tower footage and immediately confiscates anything that can be dangerous, but lets them keep the more innocent stuff.

MODERN DAY STUFF (AKA the time the show takes place)

-As the kids got older Donald and Uno allowed them more freedom, even letting them go out on their own (with the promise of being back before dark, not telling anyone what their parents did for a living, they all stuck together and they didn’t speak to strangers beyond what was necessary). When the triplets were 10 and Ve was 8 or 9, Uno learned that a powerful artifact (not the gem) was in Atlantis and that if a villain got their hands on it, it would be... very bad. So Donald decides it’s time to put on his metaphorical adventure shoes again and go get it. By this time Gladstone got trapped in the casino (Uno has been looking for him, after not hearing from him for over a week) and Uno had a Big Business thing to attend, real important too, so they talk about getting a babysitter for the weekend they’ll be gone. The kids manage to convince them they don’t need one, as they’ll be safe in the 151st floor (“We’ll be safer there than anywhere else, right, Uncle Uno?”). Donald tried to call Lyla but she was unfortunately in the field, so he agreed to let them stay home on their own until Uno got back (Uno did the math and figured he could stay for a few hours to just make a good faith appearance, talk business with some stooges and then come home the same day).

-Of course, the kids get caught. Uno had already left out for his business thing at like 5 AM, and Donald was about to head out to Atlantis in one of the Duckmobiles. He happened to check on a whim the back of the mobile, where he found his surprised ducklings staring wide-eyed up at him. He knew then that he needed to cash in on a favour- he called Beakley and then drove the protesting children to the mansion. (“Come on, Unca’ Donald!” “It’s a mansion! We wanna go to the lost city, too!” “Come on, we’ve been doing real good in training!” “Please, dad? We promise we’ll listen!”) The excitement over meeting THE Scrooge McDuck is overshadowed by the disappointment that they can’t go on this mission.

-Besides, who cares about a mansion and a rich adventuring duck when your parents and uncle are not only rich adventurers, but they’re also superheroes???

-Donald gives them a forehead kiss goodbye and heads off, and Scrooge has Beakley put the kids in that old room. “It’ll only be a few hours” they said. “Until Uno gets back.” Unfortunately, Uno calls Louie and tells the duckling there’s been a problem and he won’t be back until later- Donald already informed him of the changed arrangements and he’s already contacted Beakley.

-The kids decide to escape the old room, putting their hero training into action, but are ultimately swept up into Webby’s trap. Webby is super excited to meet them when she realizes who they are (though she has no idea who Ve is), and she cuts them down from the net without them having to escape themselves. The kids know they’re not supposed to let anyone know about the “hero family” thing so try to act like normal kids, though it becomes apparent Webby doesn’t know how to be a normal kid either.

-Through shenanigans, the children inspire Scrooge to adventure again, and Dewey lets slip about lost cities and Scrooge has a moment of realization. Thus, he drags the kids to Atlantis with him. While there, the kids each get a chance to show off their moves (which they’re SUPPOSED TO HIDE but you know, when arrows are flying at you ain’t got no time to hide). Donald is pissed when he notices them in Atlantis, and Uno is pissed when he calls Donald and learns the kids are in Atlantis, right where they are NOT supposed to be.

-Things pretty much follow the episode, though with the triplets able to hold their own and Donald gunning for a completely different artifact. When they escape and get back to the surface with their respective artifacts, they’re met by a livid android who absolutely chews Scrooge out for dragging four ten year olds and an eight year old to a dangerous place like that.

-Donald decides that it might be okay for the kids to visit with Scrooge sometimes, to get a little real-world experience, and at precisely that moment something crashes into the 151st floor of Ducklair Tower. Uno is absolutely furious (“MY TOWER???”) cuz that’s gonna take a bit to fix- at the very least it’ll appear to take a while- and when the kids question “what now?” Scrooge offers up some rooms in the mansion. The kids are excited cuz they’ll get to live with Webby and explore a new place. Donald and Uno say “just until the tower is fixed” (Gladstone had Donald’s boat at the time he went missing so Donald doesn’t have it) which is good enough for the kids.

-Scrooge being sus of Uno for like a whole arc cuz he’d never heard of Uno Ducklair before recently and also his nephew?? got married???

-Gladstone finally gets a message out to Don and Uno for help, and they go immediately- but not before Scrooge makes it a family adventure. Scrooge is disparaging of Gladstone, but Donald is just worried about his cousin. They manage to save Gladstone without pseudo-sacrificing anyone. Scrooge gets a little sus when they get back to Duckburg, and days later the missing Cloverleaf has shown up again.

-HDLV ended up spilling the truth to Webby as she got closer with them, but they swore her to secrecy. Of course Beakley found out because Webby is a terrible liar.

**So basically Donald + Uno parents, a kid that calls them her dads, good Uncle Gladstone, Brotherly Gladstone + Donald, Competent Cloverleaf, PK + Cloverleaf teamup, little-hero triplets. Gyro will end up teaming up with Gizmoduck when Fenton takes up heroing, too, just like Launchpad teams up with DW (DW’s story for this AU will be different, also, just a heads up) and basically all their combined kids become a badass team of children (Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Ve, Boyd, Gos, and of course Lena and Violet join in later...) Gyro teams up with Gizmoduck because every hero needs a tech guy (even heroes who are also scientists....) and he’s not only very capable, he’s worked with a hero before so he knows the ins and outs :D

However it is now 2 AM and I need to sleep so I’m gonna end my musings here but I am thinking of them so much right now I’m

#Domestic DUno AU #I still need a proper title for it #DT17 AU #PK AU #DUno #I miiiight add some Drakepad and Fenro.......#I'm a sucker for hero/sidekick pairings #Also featuring science family!#I like Gandra I really do but the hero/sidekick mannn #I mean Fenton had two hands so maybe.................

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oschvank · 2 years ago

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LONG POST: reaction quotes/thoughts by my brother & i (mostly me) during hueco mundo arc.

b= brother m= my thoughts

Before kidnapping b: “are they going to get together ?” referring to orihime & ichigo. asked twice already

m: Grimmjow’s punishment. If Nelliel did what he did (even though I highly doubt she’d disobey orders & go on ahead) if she acknowledged her mistake, would she willingly chop off her arm ?

m: How long have visordes been eating take out? Did they ever have homemade food? That’s sad :(((

m: CHAD IS SO PRECIOUS

m: ORIHIIIIMMMEEEE YOURE NOT ALOOONEEEEE

b. “ i like that song ” referring to Precipice of Defeat

m: I don’t think little me understood the concept of love bc hOW did Orihime’s confession to Ichigo go over my head???

Hueco Mundo Arc m: Ichigo is so self deprecating

m: Orihime is so small compared to grimmjow

m: YEAH YOU’VE BEEN A SHITTY FRIEND ICHIGO

ashido, speaks: me: rOOOYYYY MUUUSTAAAANGGGGGG?!!

m: Aizen likes his tea with lemon and sugar? (Or is this a dub thing?)

m: I think Nelliel really feels amazed with Ichigo when he agrees he doesn’t care about power. Just getting it bc he wants to protect his friends. Or something like that.

m: What’s up with arrancars/espadas having tentacle-like, multiple arms? It’s not just one, either.

Ichigo, running towards Nnoitra’s location because Chad is in danger me: BUTTERFLIES SWERLING IN STOMACH . THROWING UP BECAUSE WE’LL SOON SEE NEL’S TRANSFORMATION

m/b: Us, basically losing our shit at every Spanish word and correctly pronouncing it and guessing what the release form may look like based on the name

b: “Do they ever date in the future?” When Orihime sees Ichigo with his hollow mask

m: is about to cry because of grimmjow’s story. b: don’t worry, he has 8 more lives.

Nnoitra & Nel’s backstory b: “But… but he cheated..” @ nnoitra

m: Geeking over the 200 title card episode because it’s Nnoitras zanpakuto

Yachiru: speaks me: 👀👄👀

m: Are Nnoi and Nelliel one of the few arrancars to continue using their mouth for cero? Tongue / Mouth

Person explaining how only one person can open Garganta, make a fake town, etc etc m: Damn, Urahara really working overtime huh

b. “how’d aizen know xyz?” m: “bc he’s aizen 👁👄👁”

Visored backstory. m: If Orihime was with them, would she be able to reverse their whole hollowfication process ?

m: aizen really doesn’t like beinge wrong, huh? he’ll not only tell you you’re wrong, but he’ll prove why he’s right by picking apart every word in your sentence. then turn around & say you fell for his ‘cheap taunt’ as if he didn’t go for the finishing blow by addressing all your flaws & mistakes lmfaooo

m: I LOVE DON KANONJI : future muse ?

#ooc ; esme talks.#bleach rewatch.

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piracytheorist · 3 years ago

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Since the first thing that strikes me about re8, story-wise, is that it seems to be all over the place? Again, I’ve no idea how it ties to previous games but it feels like this parental/mother-child theme is just hanging there with no resolution at all? I mean yes, Ethan saved his daughter, presumably breaking some sort of abuse cycle, yay, congrats, but what about his wife/gf? Isn’t she supposed to be like the main protagonist of the story of a mother bereaved to the point of tyrannical madness

Or rather, this specific story is not the right choice for his character since there’s SO many ethical and philosophical issues and questions implied but never properly explored because of Ethan’s ‘fuck you, idc’ attitude (which is completely understandable in those circumstances but adds virtually nothing to the plot and arguably even ruins it a bit). Heisenberg could’ve been an excellent ally with fascinating grey morality (provided the writers wouldn’t push him to the point of absolute insanity and let freedom, not power-hunger be his main goal and motivation for rebellion).And again, aren’t the lords supposed to represent child development stages? In which case Ethan what? Kills the possibility of some evil version of Rose? Or his own chance to experience fatherhood throughout all of those stages? Either way, it seems a bit… weird to have a Parent destroy multiple people whose main relevance to the plot is that they’re children of an abusive antagonist in a storyline so extremely focused on parent/kid relationships.

I feel like the main theme of re8 is not just parenthood/motherhood, but the relationship itself of the parent to the child. There's a lot of mentions to "children being used". Miranda kidnapping people, experimenting on them and mutating them and then treating them like they're her kids; Miranda kidnapping and practically killing Rose; Dimitrescu making daughters out of reanimated corpses she experimented on; Heisenberg wanting to use Rose's powers, etc etc.

And it's important that Miranda is at the center of this. There's something very interesting she says to Ethan in her boss fight:

"Why do you interfere? Surely you have no need of Rose now, so close to death?"

And that's where her mistake was. Ethan wasn't doing all that because he needed Rose herself. He was doing it to save her, fully aware that he wasn't going to be a part of her life cause he knew he was dying. Miranda was way too dependent on her love for Eva - and like, I honestly get it that losing your child can devastate you (if anything my fear of that is one of the reasons I don't want to have kids) - so much that her life literally revolved around her child. Once Eva died, Miranda wanted to die. Once she found the Megamycete and discovered she maybe had a chance to bring Eva back, she dedicated her entire life and ruined multiple others to do just that. Her one and biggest need was to get Eva back. It wasn't a simple want or wish. It was a need. She'd get her child back, damn everyone else - including other people's children.

Miranda had no-one to blame directly; Eva had died from the influenza, it wasn't like she had any chance to change things. Ethan's case was different; he had people to blame, particularly, the one who kidnapped Rose and dismembered her, and her lackeys who kept said parts and fought him for trying to take them back.

So on one end, you have a parent who lost her child due to a tragedy, and ended up destroying other - innocent - lives in order to get her back. On the other, you have a parent who lost his child due to a crime, and ended up going after the criminals responsible in order to get the child back. Like, it wasn't even revenge, and it wasn't that he "needed" Rose in his life. He simply wanted to save her and ensure she'll be alright.

I fully agree it could have been Mia as the protagonist in re8, and that it was a wasted opportunity to simply fridge her and have her in the sidelines angsting over her husband. But whether it was Mia or Ethan as the protagonist, I feel like the theme that I explained above does offer a resolution, showing the opposites of Miranda and Ethan, and ending Miranda's tyrrany of her "need" to have her child back through Ethan's determination to ensure his child's safety and happiness - even if he doesn't get to be a part of any of that later on. Miranda showed obsession; Ethan showed dedication.

And this is how I see the abuse cycle breaking and the resolution is reached; an obsessed parent hurt a good parent's child to bring their own child back - the good parent's dedication stopped the former, allowing the former's tyrrany to end and their child to grow up safe.

Seeing as this is a horror game, I don't tend to focus on the morality issues (if I'm interpreting your second message correctly). Like, the developers are making a grant effort to put us in Ethan's shoes, first-person POV, plain character protagonist and all; our child got kidnapped and practically murdered, and we have the chance to bring her back. We'll absolutely raise hell to the people who are responsible for it and we will get our child back, fuck any moral dilemmas we might have. When someone is threatening your life, you have the ability to kill them to defend yourself. In the case of a caring parent, that ability may multiply by a lot when the threat is towards their child. And I feel that this is what the game explored in the end. Though the whole survival issue is taxing on Ethan, he doesn't give a damn about who he has to kill if it means saving his daughter - but again, it's only the responsible parties. We see how watching all the people at Luisa's house die affected him, and even before Elena died, he wanted to ensure her safety before he went searching for Rose; he is sympathetic and morally rational, but also capable of cold-blooded murder if someone is threatening his child. To a lesser extent, we saw that in re7 too. With his life on the line, he killed Jack (multiple times) and Marguerite, and at the end he recognized how they were actually victims of Eveline. But they were still actively trying to murder him so he wasn't given the chance to help them. With Zoe, he promised to send help, and he did, even wanting to talk to her once she'd been rescued by her uncle and Chris. The same applies to re8, but as I said, it's multiplied since it's his daughter who's in danger, and the end of re8 proves he cares for her safety more than his own.

Now, all that said, I think it's important to note how it's stil a Resident Evil game. I haven't actually played or watched any playthroughs of other games, but the basic concept in these games, from what I understand, is that the player shoots zombies; ex-human beings who have lost any human mentality and will just come for your throat if you don't kill them first. They're not humans anymore, they can't be reasoned or sympathized with. It's not really an issue of morality, ethics or philosophy. Your life, and the life of your child in the case of re8, are in danger. You don't give a shit. You just start shooting and hope for the best. Again, I don't know if the morality issue is explored in other RE games, but to be honest... Resident Evil doesn't sound like the kind of franchise that's thematically into going super deep into the morality of shooting zombies to save your life.

I have to admit I haven't thought of the Lords being representative of child development stages. I think they could be put as Moreau being a toddler, fully dependent on their parent - funnily enough, the Greek word for baby is "moro", pronounced almost exactly the way "Moreau" is pronounced in the game - Donna as a child, Heisenberg as a (rebellious?) teenager, and Dimitrescu as a late teen/young adult (if anything, Dimitrescu seems to behave like the eldest child of the bunch). But I'm not sure the connection that has to Ethan as a father, if anything because the bosses are fought in complete random order of age, if my analysis is correct. Like, I understand the symbolism behind the Lords' behaviours, maybe as you said they represent the obstacles Ethan had to overcome. In one single day and with his life on the line, instead of in the course of Rose's entire childhood and adolescence, but that's exactly why he hated being a protagonist of a horror game, lol.

Anyway, yeah. All in all, I don't think Resident Evil is a franchise where we should expect to sit down afterwards and ponder whether we were right to shoot the zombies that were trying to kill us. Again, I'm not the right person to ask this, since I don't know anything about other RE games, but that's the conclusion I'm making in a meta-thinking way.

#Resident Evil #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil 8 #Ethan Winters #Mother Miranda #re meta #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

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mudhornchronicles · 4 years ago

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dreamboat | greaser!frankie morales | part two

diner cred to @thatretrobitch

pairing: francisco “catfish” morales x reader; 1950’s greaser!frankie x reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, ya know… 1950s stuff + death and war, and being rude af

a/n: part two of dreamboat

masterlist

dreamboat: part one | part two

“If I didn’t know any better, Francisco, I’d say you were teacher in a past life.” You look up at him and smirk. He looks over to you and gives you a crooked smile. He adjusts his jacket and runs his left hand through his hair.

Frankie taught you a lot more history than the teacher. Frankie had a lot more patience and explained each topic that was covered in much better detail and simply enough to understand. Like when Hattie Wyatt Caraway of Arkansas became the first woman elected to the U.S. Senate in 1932 to fill the vacancy caused by the death of her husband. Frankie compared it to the demonstration of the first long distance telephone service between New York and San Francisco in 1913 – surprising but needed.

You didn’t have Frankie for a third period, just first and fourth, but he made sure to meet you out each of your classes and walked you over to your next class. He had conversed with the boys about asking you to Rosie’s Diner on Friday night. Everyone knows when a guy takes a little darlin’ down to Rosie’s, she’s unavailable. Frankie knows you probably don’t know what going to the diner with him means but he assumes if you did, you wouldn’t go. So he decides that the less you knew the better – well at least that’s what Tom decided.

“Ya know, doll. I like the way you say my name, but how ‘bout ya just call me Frankie, huh? I don’t use the entire thing anymore.”

You cock your head to the side and your smiles turns into a slight frown. “Do you not like the way Francisco sounds?”

He tucks his hands into his jean pockets, shrugs, and looks down at his dirty Chuck Taylors. “Thanks, I do like it, but it don’t… it don’t sound cool, you know? I got a reputation to keep up – all the guys do.”

Frankie stopped using the name Francisco at the start of freshman year. Pope stopped using Santiago around the same time. Their teachers would call them Francis and Saint because they found it difficult to pronounce the boys’ names correctly. Frankie was too shy to say anything and Pope was still unsure about his accented English, so when Will laughed and told the teacher, “Ain’t that a bite? You got a degree, but can’t pronounce an ABC name,” the boys knew Will was going to be a great friend. The boys thought that would be the end of it, but then Benny decided to join his brother and say, “How ‘bout, since ya feel so high and mighty, you call ‘em Frankie and Pope? We got Francisco like that city on the west coast, so call ‘em Frankie. Then we got Santiago. You wanna call ‘em Saint, then give ‘em the highest honor.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” you stopped walking and placed a hand on his arm. “I like your name. I think it suits you very well.”

He smiles and nods. He doesn’t know if he’s nodding because he’s convincing himself he likes it too or if he’s nodding because he’s glad you like it too. He liked your company because you weren’t too invasive, but he could also tell that you wanted to get to know him. He knew he wasn’t the most open to people, he has his father to thank for that.

As young 19-year-old – about a year older than Frankie – his father was drafted and fought in World War 1 in 1918 as a US Army soldier and was then sent off to France a few weeks in to fight with the AEF, the American Expeditionary Forces. Because of this, Frankie’s father wasn’t the most expressive when in public but was easily the most caring when it came to his family. When Frankie was growing up, his father had spoiled his baby boy and made sure he worked hard as a welder so that Frankie wouldn’t want for anything. Frankie remembers his father coming home from work late at night, oil and bits of metal stuck to him, and always turning his frown into a smile when he laid eyes upon his son.

His father’s closure to the world only grew when he saw his family in danger. Frankie figured that by growing up within a military family, it would lead to him serving in the military as his father did before him. When Frankie was coming to the age of enlistment, he told his family about him wanting to go off to the military, but his father was very much against it. All his father wanted for his son was for Frankie to live his life the way he wanted to, so Frankie didn’t enlist. One day when Frankie was at school, recruiters came to the Morales home and were knocking the door down. Frankie’s father had informed them that his son would not be serving. He was told that because Frankie was able, male, and was soon to be of age, he had to enlist whether he was needed or not. His father complied; except he wrote his own name down instead of his son’s.

His father never regretted going to war. He still had nightmares, which Frankie knew all too well. He had met Frankie’s mother when he came back home in 1921 and after years of trying, he was blessed with a son in 1935. All was good in the world until the year 1950 – Frankie was 15 years old. In August of 1950, a letter came in the post reading the following:

SIR: FRANCISCO MORALES SR.

You are hereby notified that you, on the 21 day of August of 1950, have been legally drafted in the service to the Armed Forces of the United States of America. You are to report to the Armed Forces station below and will be transported to Daejeon, Korea.

Frankie’s father never came back.

His body was never recovered – just his ID tags. Frankie’s mother was told that the last transmission received with the whereabouts of Francisco Morales Sr. were near the Nakdong River in South Korea. Frankie always carried his father’s ID tags around his neck no matter where he went. Those tags always reassured him of himself knowing that he was doing what his father wanted him to do.

Frankie walked you down the steps of school building and stopped at the sidewalk. “Ya know, if ya need a ride, I can take ya home – aint no trouble.”

You smile and shake your head. “I appreciate that. I told my mother I’d take the bus back home.” You knew your mother would have a fit if she saw you get dropped off by a boy, but she may still be at work. You looked back at Frankie and saw that he had a slight frown on his face as he played with a necklace hidden in his white t-shirt. You weren’t sure the reason behind it, but he didn’t want to pry. “Actually, I’ll take a ride.”

His eyes lit up and nodded. “Great but I do gotta warn ya, doll. I gotta take Ironhead and Benny back to their place. Pope usually goes back to mines.” A ride home in a car full of teenage boys – what can go wrong?

The pair of you walk down to the school’s parking lot and there you see students laughing in their cars – 4 to 5 in a car – all while having a smoke and others are drinking from beer cans. You have no doubt that it’s beer cans when one gets tossed towards you with left over beer splattering over your white skirt. Frankie takes notice of the yellow stains and the grimace growing on your face. He looks over at the teenagers in a beat-up Chevy.

“Aye watch where ya tossin’ shit, birdbrain.” The teens look over at Frankie and walk over to him. You place a hand on his arm and look up at him.

“Frankie, c’mon. Let’s just go to your car, huh?” you plead. His arm tightens and as the teens arrive in front of him, Frankie protectively put you behind him and adjusts his jacket – a tick of his you’ve taken note of. The three boys who walked over to Frankie look over at you and smirk.

“Well shit Frankie, pal.” One of them takes a smoke and blows the out towards his side. “You already smashin’ up this little new betty? Don’t you work fast… first Michelle, then Tiffany, now this one?”

Frankie’s jaw tightens and his hold on your arm shifts. “How ‘bout you stuff it, Jack? You know you ain’t even supposed to be here. This ain’t your turf.”

Jack removes his hat, a cowboy hat he’s become fond of, and fixes his hair. He puts it back on and laughs. “You’re right, but I clearly don’t care. Oberyn ain’t out the can ‘till Friday, so I call the shots. My boys wanna be here and screw all these chick-a-dees, then they will. I know you ain’t gon’ do nothin’.”

“He will,” you hear a click and quickly turn your head to see Pope and the boys, Benny holding up a pocketknife. “But he ain’t doin’ it alone either.” The Bandits circle the three men and puff up their chests.

“Alright,” Jack holds his hands up. “We’re gone but trust me when I say that Oberyn ain’t gon’ be too happy to hear this.” With that he snaps his head over to his boys directing them back to their car. They turn to leave and Jack walks away backwards. When he’s satisfied with the distance between himself and The Bandits, he turns on his heel and runs to his car. He jumps in the driver’s seat, gives his girl a smooch, and revs the engine – with that he’s gone.

Pope looks at you and gives your shoulder a quick squeeze. “You good? Hope those bumrats ain’t spook ya too bad.” You shake your head and smile shyly. You look down at your ruined skirt and shrug.

“Just a ruined skirt but that’s okay. I wasn’t fond of it.” Will laughs at your comment fluffs yours skirt from the bottom, earning a nudge from Frankie.

“Let’s get her home, huh? I gotta drop off everyone else,” Frankie says. Tom tells Frankie that he’s got detention and to go on without him. Tom goes back towards the building while everyone piles up in Frankie’s Cherry Red 1945 Mustang GT – his father’s gift to him for his 15th birthday, also his last gift.

Per usual, Benny and Will leans the driver’s seat forwards and get in to sit in the back while Pope goes to sit in his usual spot as shotgun. Frankie tuts at Pope and points to the back. Pope scoffs but shoots Frankie a wink. He gets in and sits in between the brothers, being the smallest of the three, and Frankie runs over to open the door for you to sit up front. He grabs your books and hands them to Pope. As you situate yourself and buckle your seatbelt, Frankie gets in and turns on his baby. He revvs the engine and backs up out the school’s parking garage, but not before revving his engine one more time for the freshmen per Benny’s request.

On the drive to the brother’s house, Benny grabs your notebook and looks through your notes of the day. He looks through the math notes you took during 4th period and immediately closes it. “You sure are smart if you’re taking this angle stuff. I’m guessing it’s college prep?”

You look over your shoulder and nod. “I’m currently taking college preparatory trigonometry. They unfortunately didn’t have any other advanced placement for me here.”

The boys let out a harmony of “ohs” and Will shakes Frankie’s shoulder. “Frankie! She’s smart like you, buddy!”

Pope smirks and joins in on the teasing. “Lo vez, hermano! Being smart doesn’t make you un-cool. Being you does! No te hagas ver como el tonto porque no lo eres.”

You see, brother… don’t make yourself seem dumb because you aren’t.

You look at Pope and smile. “I agree with you, Santiago. Frankie is very intelligent so he shouldn’tdumb himself down because he thinks that’s what people think of him.” Pope stops and looks at you. “You know some Spanish, angel face?” You eagerly nod. “I’m very familiar with the language. They had us choose electives at my old school. I took Spanish, Italian, and French. I had a lot of a free time.”

Pope looks at you in shock but happily hollers. “Well sugar you sound pretty good speakin’ ‘em”

You couldn’t explain it, but you felt giddy. You felt happy to be around the boys and you knew you wanted to continue to be around them.

With Frankie getting out of the car and moving his seat forward, Will and Benny get dropped off first, but not without teasing him about “asking the chick.” Frankie flips them off and Pope lets out a belly laugh. Frankie apologetically looks at you and mouths sorry. You blush and mouth that’s okay.

Once leaving the brothers, Pope tells Frankie to turn up the radio. Frankie looks at Pope through the rearview mirror and narrows his eyes. “Switch to 12,” Pope says with a wink. Frankie rolls his eyes and turns the knob so the needle hits channel 12. Once Frankie hears the recognizable melody from “Takes Two to Tango” by Pearl Bailey. Frankie goes to switch the channel, but you stop his hand. He glances over to you and he sees you mouthing the words. He looks back at Pope who wiggles his eyebrows and sings out loud and to Frankie’s surprise, you join Pope singing at the top of your lungs. He laughs at your attempts at dancing in your seat and looks back at Pope who was waving his hands in the air.

Frankie thought that you’d be this proper, shy little thing but here you were having singing and laughing with his best friend. You gave him the slightest nudge and smiled in his direction. “C’mon Frankie. Don’t be a sour puss. I know you know this song!” You were right. He did know this song. He and Pope sang it so much because Pope thought he could woo some girl – he didn’t really know what the lyrics meant so you can guess what happened. If you guessed he slept with her… you’d be correct.

You poked Frankie in the ribs light enough to not affect his driving and giggled as he sang out with Pope. You liked seeing this Frankie – not that big tough guy you saw at the parking lot. He seemed like he had a big heart but was scared to show it and you were determined, but you were ripped away from your internal planning when Frankie politely asked for your address.

“It’s a shame you ain’t hangin’ longer sweetheart,” Pope began. “I think you’d like being around us two mucks. You would definitely like Frankie’s mom’s cooking. She makes the best food in town.” You smiled as the two best friends bickered about whose mom had the best food.

“I would have loved to, but I have to be home and do chores before my mother gets home.”

Frankie looks over to you and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. Maybe next time, cool?” You smile at the invitation and nod. Frankie continues to drive as you and Pope make a conversation about the possibility of you tutoring him in math. With them being high school seniors, they are not failing one class.

You feel on top of the world, laughing and talking with your new friends, until you spot the yellow Pontiac in the driveway and your mother coming out of it. Your face drops and the boys immediately take notice.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asks. You straighten out your top and ask Pope for your books as you ready yourself to run out of the car. You look at Frankie and offer a weak smile.

“My mother won’t be happy with me is all.” You’d ask Frankie to drop you off a couple of houses before your own, but you know your mother has already seen you. As Frankie pulls up to your house, the boys’ jaws drop. You wouldn’t say your house was big, but to the boys, it was huge. Your two-story home consisted of 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The exterior of the home was beige with dark brown trimming and the river rock pathway leading up to your home was lined with grass so green you’d think it was plastic.

Your mother, dressed to the nines in a pale pink dress and white belt, looks at the hot rod parked in front of her home and places her hands on her hips as she sees Frankie run out and open your door. Your mother would normally love seeing her daughter be treated by a gentleman, but she isn’t very happy to see that it’s Frankie. She has always dreamed of her daughter being courted by a young man in polished Oxford shoes and ironed pleated pants not a worn out leather jacket and dirty chucks.

You thank Frankie for the ride and look over at your upset mother. The boys say hello to her as she gives them the ungenuine smile of hers you have seen many times. You wave goodbye to both boys and begin to walk up to your mother. You hear whispers behind you and then you hear your mother say, “Is there something else you’d like to say, boy?”

You turn and you see Pope shove Frankie towards you. His face turns red as he sees your mother staring him down and he knows that this may not be the best time to ask you.

“On with it, young man. My daughter and I have work to do.”

Frankie once again runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat. “I- I, uh, I was wonderin’ if ya wanted to hang with us at Rosie’s on Friday. The shakes are pretty good so we could ma-“

“What’s your name, young man?” You look at your mother. You narrow your eyes at her for interrupting Frankie.

“It-It’s Frankie,” he stutters, “my name’s Frankie, ma’am.”

Your mother gives her less than friendly smile again. “Well, Frankie, you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I tell you this – you are not the kind of person I want my daughter befriending. You just don’t quite… how can I put this nicely? You don’t fit a mother’s standards.”

“Mother!”

“Quiet.” she tells you. “You will not be around these boys again, do you understand? Your father works too hard for you to just ruin your life like this. You asked to be taken out of the pristine private school we paid for you to go to and we allowed you to enroll in public school. Why are you bringing home some… some hoodlum! How can you do this to us?”

You wished this had surprised you, but it wasn’t the first time your mother disrespected your choice of friends. You huffed and you felt tears coming to your eyes as you saw Frankie’s defeated look in his eyes and Pope fighting the urge to get out of the car.

You mother calls your name, and you turn to look at her. She walks to you, heels clicking the pavement, and cups your jaw. “You will not associate yourself with these boys, do we understand each other?” You see Frankie nod to you and walk back to his car. You look back at your mother and nod. “Yes, Mother. I understand.” Your mother smiles at you and gives your cheek a pat. “Good girl. Now… get inside and put that skirt in the hamper. Your allowance is going towards a new skirt.”

She leads you into the house and you look back and see Frankie’s car is still there. You stop in your tracks and look at your mother. “Mother, may I please run back and grab a paper I left?”

“Is it school related?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Go grab it and say goodbye and come back in. We have to get dinner going.” You nod and run back to the car and your mother walks into the house.

Pope rolls down the passenger side window and both boys look at you. You smile at Pope and look at Frankie.

“Does Rosie’s Diner have sundaes?” Pope smirks and turns to Frankie while Frankie nods with a confused face. “Well,” you start, “If Friday’s invitation is still open, pick me up by the green house down the street at 6pm. She’ll be going to my grandmother’s house up north.”

“Sounds like a plan, doll.”

The light breeze surprises you as it picks up the more you walk down the street. You walk past two houses and you see the red backlights of the cherry red mustang you seemed to miss.

Your mother, thankfully, left to your grandmother’s home about two hours ago, much earlier than expected. She called not very long ago to make sure you were home and doing homework. You told her that you were planning to retire early as your homework began to give you a headache. She insisted you eat dinner and sleep as she didn’t want to see eyebags under your eyes when she got back tomorrow. She bid you goodnight and said she’d be home by tomorrow’s lunchtime. Once you hung the phone on the hook, you ran to your room and began to ready yourself for the night.

You grew giddy as 6 o’clock crept closer and closer. You had applied your blush and mascara so carefully you’d have thought you were dusting the finest of china. You did not want to wear too much makeup; you didn’t want to seem as though you were trying too hard. You picked out the pins out of the curls on your head you’d put up right when your mother left and watched as the soft and tight curls fell and framed your face. You grabbed your wide tooth comb and brushed the curls out, parting your side at a side so there was more hair and volume on one side. You sprayed a tight hold hairspray all over so you could make sure your hair stood – Frankie wouldn’t want to see frazzled hair, no man would, you thought.

As you went through your closet, you decided that a dress was the best choice as it was simple enough to either be dressed up or dressed down. You went with a white collared black dress with thin white windowpane patterned lines all over. You wore your black flats and added a black shiny belt running across the waist. You get closer to Frankie’s car and you see him get out of his car – you figured he had seen you coming.

“How ya doin’ there, doll?”

“Hello, Frankie.” You wave and get closer to him. Once you’re in front of him you fix his jacket lapel and look up at him. “Aren’t you sight for sworn eyes.”

His eyes widen then starts laughing loudly and your face goes red. He nearly falls in laughter as his hands catch himself on his knees. “W-What’d ya just say?”

“I said aren’t you a sight for sworn eyes,” you frown. “Is that not appropriate?”

He catches his breath and puts a hand on his belly. He reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear with the other hand. “The saying is a sight for sore eyes, doll; not sworn eyes.”

You feel as if your face is about to burst as you start laughing at yourself. You just cannot believe you’ve messed up your first attempt at flirting with Frankie. “I was really sure it was sworn.”

He smiles brightly and shakes his head. “Hey… can’t say ya ain’t tried right?” You giggle and nod. He look you up and down and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Te vez hermosa.” You look beautiful.

Have you ever had that feeling when there’s a puppy trying to get comfortable, but it can’t so it walks over to you and lays with you – falling into a deep and peaceful sleep? You know how it makes your heart feel as if it’s grown twice in size because the puppy chose you and trusted you to protect it while it slept? That’s how you felt when those words came out of Frankie’s mouth.

“Muchas gracias, Francisco.” Thank you very much, Francisco.

He playfully rolls his eyes at you and lets out a laugh. He points to the car and says, “get in the damn car.” He runs over to your door and lets you in, as per usual, and off you two went to Rosie’s Diner.

Frankie leads you into a bright neon-lit diner not very far from your home, about 25 minutes from your place. The diner stands out from the black concrete parking lot and pine trees decorating its background. He opens the light brown doors and places a hand on your lower back as you walk in – not too low or too high.

“Howdy’ho kiddos.” You’re greeted by a woman in her late 40’s or early 50s – the grey hair and sweet smile give it away. “Hey there, Frankie. Bandits meetin’ ya here?”

Frankie smiles at the woman, gives her a hug, and a quick kiss on the cheek; a kiss she smiles at and hums in content. “Hey Ro. Boys are comin’ in a while. You know they ain’t missin’ your special tonight.”

“There’s a special night every night for my favorite bandits, Frankie. Who’s this, huh? You finally bringin’ a girl for me to meet?” Frankie shakes his head from side to side smiling. He turns to you and introduces you to Rosie, the diner’s owner and one of his favorite people. “She’s new in town and I wanted to show her the best diner in the world.”

Rosie slaps Frankie’s arm and laughs. “Stop talkin’ sweet ‘fore your teeth rot, boy. You’re too pretty to be all gums now. I knew my boys were comin; your usual booth’s open, but take the table next to it, yeah. Ya need the extra seat ‘less you sittin’ the girl on ya lap.” Frankie begins to stutter a protest as you stifle a laugh.

“It’s very nice to meet you Miss Rosie. I’m in awe of your diner and excited to try your food.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet the girl who Frankie finally decided to bring to the diner. It’s a very special moment in his life ya know?” You cock your head to the side and take a quick glance at Frankie.

“Why’s that, Miss Rosie?”

As Rosie was about to explain the beginning of courtships of 99% of the teenagers in town, Frankie dragged you away with the dramatic excuse of being so hungry he can eat a horse and how he’ll drop dead if he doesn’t get a shake.

As you make it to the table Rosie had sent you to, you’d think that Frankie would have pulled out your chair, but a couple of some teens you remember seeing at school look in yours and Frankie’s direction whispering among themselves. You took a seat and looked at Frankie to ask if he knew them but as you were about to ask, you saw his face looking back at them with a deep stare. He gave them a single nod towards the door and to your surprise, they ran. Frankie scanned the room and he knew everyone would be taking in the scene. Frankie had never taken a girl out in public – especially not a girl like you. Sure people knew about other girls he’s been with, but everyone knew they weren’t together.

Frankie sat down after everyone in the diner turned their attention back to where it previously was and he passes you a diner menu, but still tense due to the eyes that locked with his back once more.

When the waitress you learned was named Vi and was obsessed with Will, Frankie had ordered a basket of fries for the two to share, a cherry soda for him and a sundae of your pick for you. Vi was also an older woman, best friends with Rosie, and had an innocent crush on Will’s blonde self. Frankie told you about the time Will brought Vi a bouquet of flowers for her birthday and Vi almost attacked the poor kid to the ground with kisses. Vi was sweet and she made you feel very good about yourself as she fixed your collar and fluffed your hair because “her Frankie needs to see what he’s got in front of him.”

You were nearly done with your sundae as you heard the distinctive pitch that is Benny’s voice as he said “What’s cookin’ good lookin’ don’t you look like a dream,” and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You greet each and every one of the boys as they take their seats around the table – Benny calling dibs on one of the seats next to you. Benny puts his arm around the back rest of your white chair and calls Vi over to place a new order.

As the night continues, you feel free. You feel so relaxed and at ease with the boys around you that you don’t even notice the dirty looks some girls were giving you. Benny puts his head on your shoulder and give his cheek a little pat resulting in Benny playfully trying to bite your hand. Frankie clears his throat and Benny looks over at him and smirks.

“I ain’t trynna steal ya girl, Frankie. If she hangin’ with us, ya gotta get used to us playin ‘round.”

Frankie turns red as Benny calls you “his girl” and rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He looks out the window and immediately tenses. You follow his gaze and see a 1942 black Ford with some boys in it – one of the being that Jack guy from school – revv its engine as it speeds back and forth through the parking lot. He grabs the boys eyes and directs them towards the window and Benny stands up immediately. The boys follow suit and Frankie turns to you.

“Stay here alright, doll? We’ll be back.”

You turn from Frankie to the window and back to Frankie with a worried look painting your face. “What’s going on Frankie?”

“They shouldn’t be here. This ain-“ You both turn at the sound of a crash and see Pope being held against Frankie’s car by a guy in a black tee with its sleeves rolled. Frankie runs out of the diner and you run after him. You know you shouldn’t be getting in between this, but you aren’t going to let anyone hurt your new friends.

Frankie runs up behind this guy, turns him around, and shoves him away from his car and friends. The guy smirks and nods at Frankie. “Did you miss me Frankie?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Oberyn? We already told ya friend there that this ain’t your turf.”

You had to admit, Oberyn had this strut to him that showed his self-confidence and the combination of his flirtatious smile and smoldering eyes only made him more attractive than he already was. Jack came to stand next to him and as he turned to toss some keys over to another friend of his, you caught sight of the word VIPERS with two snakes on the back of his jacket.

“Yeah… he told me ‘bout it. But ya anna know what else Jackie told me? He told me that ya got ya’self a knockout.” Oberyn locks eyes with you and winks. He tries to walk over to you, but Frankie pushes back and away from you.

“Don’t get near her.” Oberyn lets out a sarcastic chuckle and gets in Frankie’s face.

“How ‘bout ya make me, Morales?”

The next thing you knew, you were yelling and crying with Will held you away as you saw Frankie and Oberyn duke it out on the concrete while Benny and Pope tried to pry Oberyn away – Jack and some other guy pushing them away. You caught a glimpse of Frankie’s bruising cheek and Oberyn’s bloody nose. You only noticed the officer’s arrival once Will dragged you back in the diner and making sure Rosie held you back as he ran back to be by Frankie’s side when the local sheriff gets out the car.

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allegedlyanandroid · 4 years ago

Note

Pairing: Allen60 Prompt: Cold Types: Found Family, Fluff AU: Angels and Demons, Sixty as the little devil he is, and Allen just being human.

I am so late 😅 I wrote an entire thing before realising I hated every word of it and started over from scratch. Anyway... excuses aside, I hope you like it @yayen-chan <3 `(‾◡◝)´

“Okay, bookshelves first,” Allen mutters, following the intricate maze of arrows and concrete as he tries to navigate the local IKEA. “Or rugs. That works too,” he sighs when he glances up and finds himself in the wrong part of the store. Looking through the copious amounts of different rugs Allen rapidly finds himself overwhelmed. He tries reading a few of the ridiculously complicated names, stuttering over them when trying to read them out loud. “Ra- raskmol- mölle?”

Giving up on the fifth time trying to pronounce it correctly Allen rolls the grey-and-black striped fabric up and tosses it on the cart, already dreading trying to find the rest of the items on his list. There’s only one really but when passing through the plant-section he stops to pick up a potted plant. The other one is beyond salvaging from lack of water. “Ilex, foreeneling? För-enlig. What are these names?”

After another dead-end and some frustrated grumbling, he does find the bookshelf he needs. Honestly… this trip alone solidifies why he’s never getting a puppy. The one he took in to foster was a sweet thing but very demanding and unaware that he weighed quite a lot for a pup. He’d knocked Allen’s bookshelf over, thus breaking it, and also had an accident on his rug. If being petless meant never having to go here again then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. At least the shelter had found a family for him quickly and, while he did miss the little rascal, the puppy was undoubtedly in better hands.

“Kallax, hemnes... gersby?”

Too caught up in his own head he doesn't notice the strange scent of warm brimstone and ash filtering through the air nor does he notice the young “man” standing behind him, a man who seemingly appeared out of thin air, until he hears the sound of a throat clearing. Allen jerks his head up from wrestling with the cardboard box and offers an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Or, you could tell me why I’m here and spare me the mundane small talk you humans seem so obnoxiously fond of.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man squints. “You summoned me.”

Allen pauses to take a good look at the man. He’s tall with black, artistically tousled hair and endless amounts of freckles. A few moles are scattered across his skin and his brown eyes are filled with irritation. Dark jeans with a long-sleeved shirt tucked into it, a black overcoat ending at about mid-thigh and a purple scarf hanging unknotted around his neck. Allen thinks long and hard yet finds no recollection of ever seeing this man before in his life let alone speaking to him. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You-” the man pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply and slowly let it out before starting again. “You read the incantation to evoke me and you what… didn’t even realise it?” he asks and receives nothing but a blank stare from Allen in return. “Ugh, humans.”

In the blink of an eye the man transforms. Horns curve with the shape of his skull, producing from close to his temples, before ending in sharp tips that blend in with his raven hair. A black tail is wrapped around his leg which ends with a jagged spear-like point. The tips of his fingers look like they’ve been dipped in charcoal, fading into dark grey about halfway up his fingers, with claw-like black nails top it all off. They tap against the metal shelf next to them as the demon slowly advances.

Too shocked to move, Allen’s jaw is taken in a firm grip and when the demon smiles his teeth are pointed blades. “So… are you going to tell me what it is you want?”

“You can let go of my face for a start,” Allen says, adding a quick “thank you,” when the demon does as he’s told. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Sixty.”

“Sixty,” Allen repeats. “No offence but I quite like having my soul intact. I’m sorry for dragging you from… whatever circle of hell you reside in, but I’m not interested in making any sort of deal with you.”

“Sucks to be you then because I’m not leaving until you do,” Sixty says and from his tone of voice alone Allen knows he’s a hundred percent serious.

‘Fucking IKEA.’

“Really? You couldn’t have chosen to live somewhere a bit warmer?” Sixty asks with disdain, thankfully back to looking human. His feet sink into the four inches worth of snow dusting the ground and he can already feel the cold seeping in through the gaps in his clothing. “Or somewhere nicer in general.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“No one’s forcing you to live here.” A pause. “Or if they are, I am more than willing to kill them for you free of charge.”

Allen sighs.

Having a demon for a housemate isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sixty mostly keeps to himself whenever he isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or complaining about the cold or putting things on tall shelves like the little shit he is. Until Sixty gets bored that is.

Because when Sixty gets bored trouble ensues.

Emerging from his office after a long day of meetings to see his demonic housemate casually chatting with parts of his team in the breakroom is a bit out of left field and the sight of Sixty’s mischievous eyes boring into his own is enough to quicken his pace. “What are you doing here, Si- Silas?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face.

He hates how no one else can look past the innocent brown eyes and syrupy grin to see the smugness beneath. “I thought we were supposed to eat lunch together? Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Allen hastens to say, ignoring Willis and Clark’s knowing grins, as he wracks his brain for a response. “Though I distinctly remember asking you to wait outside.”

“It would have been rude of me to decline Julie’s offer of getting coffee,” Sixty replies and raises his mug as if to show it off.

“No need to be jealous, boss. We just wanted to get to know the guy better,” Julie says.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone outside of work apart from Reed,” Clark pipes up. “We got curious.”

“I’m not jealous!” Allen tries to defend himself, latching on to the word, but the agitated tone does nothing to help his case. Sixty smirking behind the rim of the coffee cup like a cat who got the cream isn’t helping to improve his mood either.

“You are the pettiest asshole I’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting,” Allen says when they’re safely away from prying eyes.

Sixty snickers, knowing full well the amount of endless curiosity and ceaseless questions he’s unleashed on the human. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

The fistful of snow he gets shoved in his face shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

By the time he manages to blink the melting snow out of his eyes Allen is too far away to retaliate, though that doesn’t stop Sixty from trying.

Despite his best efforts Sixty’s irritation with being unceremoniously dragged into the mortal plane dissipates after the third week of staying with Allen. By the time he’s been there for a month and a half, Allen’s team have adopted him as one of their own and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. They genuinely care about his well-being and often invite him along on outings. As someone whose family is… overbearing, their light-hearted ribbing is a nice change of pace. Their easy dynamic is the very opposite of stifling. No one ever pries when he declines to answer a question. No one touches him after he made it clear he dislikes physical contact. No one quizzes him about his every movement.

It’s… nice.

The next team building exercise and subsequent photo op, proudly displayed on the communal fridge, includes him and Sixty doesn’t cry even a little bit upon seeing that.

Not at all.

In the end, the shift in their relationship is near seamless ‒ from reluctant roommates to friends to something more.

What hits him first is the metallic scent of fresh blood and Sixty is halfway across the room before he can even process rising to his feet. He gathers Allen up in his arms and leads him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of his dark shirt is tacky with blood and Sixty feels no remorse when he shreds it to get it off as quickly as possible. Something, a bullet or knife, must have grazed his side. It’s bleeding sluggishly though it thankfully isn’t deep. Sixty takes the ruined shirt and presses it against the wound. “Keep putting pressure on it.”

Allen doesn’t answer and in the end he’s the one who has to move Allen’s hand to take over while he dashes to the bathroom for the medkit. Sixty plunks it down on the floor and fills a bowl of lukewarm water to put down beside it before fetching a clean towel. He kneels down between Allen’s legs and cleans meticulously around the area, noting the patches of skin where bruises are slowly forming. Swiping over the wound with antiseptic earns him a bitten-off hiss and Sixty puts a hand on Allen’s sternum to steady him after the first involuntary flinch.

He keeps it there, soothed by feeling the steady thrum of Allen’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, until he needs the use of both his hands. In its absence, Sixty’s tail comes up to wrap loosely around his thigh for comfort.

Butterfly bandages instead of sutures, his tail instead of his hand. Allen doesn’t say a word about either choice though he is smiling down where they’re connected once Sixty chances a quick peek.

There’s nothing left for him to do after covering the wound with gauze, taping the edges down, yet Sixty finds himself lingering there regardless.

It’s easy to trace around the gauze with the very tip of a claw and when he catches Allen’s dark eyes the urge to lean down to place a gentle kiss over it wins out. Allen sighs quietly and coaxes Sixty up to kiss him properly ‒ a chaste press of lips against lips followed by a sincere thank you.

Sixty blushes and knocks his forehead against Allen’s, mindful of his horns, in a silent show of affection.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Because I literally stepped in the door a second ago?” Allen laughs and pulls Sixty in for a quick kiss.

“Excuses,” Sixty sniffs and steals another kiss, one that quickly devolves into a dozen pecks being pressed all over his face until Allen plants a last lingering one to his lips.

“I love you,” Allen says when they break apart for real.

The shy smile spreading over Sixty’s lips is one he’ll never tire of seeing.

#slowly but surely working my way through these #sorry it's taking so long #dbh allen #captain allen #dbh sixty #rk800 sixty #allen60 #dbh #detroit: become human #detroit become human #allegedly answering asks #mini fic #my writing #that awkward moment when you're in an ikea and accidentally summon a demon

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ayoalex · 4 years ago

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No one asked but head canon that I have for some of the characters that shouldn't be a thing and I hope it never becomes canon.

Ruby:

- She's just a lamp at this point, it's good for practice tho

- Absolutely tried to adopted a Beowolf at one point in V4/V5 until Qrow made her stop.

- She can cook... Kinda she just know the basics. The only thing she knows to bake is cookies, like that's it.

- She listen to rock but her favorite band is One Direction.

- She may have cut herself way to many times while cleaning or maintaining Crescent Rose, she's still sad she didn't even got a cool scar put of it because of her aura.

- She once tried to cut her own hair in V4 and then gave up and just decided to wait till some actual decent hairdresser could do it for her.

- She doesn't know how to pronounce correctly some stuffs so she just call them "thingy"

- Tried to dyed her hair all red like Gerard Way... Yang didn't let her touch any hair products for 5y.

Weiss:

- Doesn't know how to drive a bicycle and at this point of her life she's just afraid of asking.

- "I don't cook, I don't clean"

- Later Yang taught her how to clean, so at least the dorm isn't as much of a disaster.

- "Yes I have a scar in my eye, no I'm not blind"

- The only fiction book she actually read was Sailor Moon manga and that's why she uses combat skirts.

- Her favorite character is Sailor Venus

- Ruby once showed her the anime and she just cried, cuz "goddamit there's way to many episodes Ruby".

- She fights everyone just for shit and giggles, she just enjoy the drama.

- She knows how to play the kazoo for some strange reason.

Blake:

- She will never tell anyone but she onced read an hentai by accident at the age of 12 and since then she has a phobia of tentacles.

- Is a bad influence... Specially to Ruby.

- She once skipped an entire day of classes because she was sleepy, Weiss was really mad at her.

- "Men, I wish I had the money to buy that" Proceeds to hack the system so the company sends her shit for free

- Yang has to tell her she can't just continue doing illegal shits now that's she's at school and out of the White Fang.

- Sometimes she just look directly at Weiss eyes and just break some shits to make her upset.

- "Blake, isn't your abdomen too exposed on battle?" "I want them to know I'm hotter than them Illia"

- "High boots? Check. Skinny pants? Check. Fat ass? Check. Ok I'm ready to fuck shit up"

Yang:

- She loves every type of music but she only knows how to twerk with classic music.

- Knows every word of "Bet on it".

- Used to watch Turtle Ninjas and Michelangelo is her favorite.

- The hot lesbian weeb, geek, nerd and jock everyone loves.

- For some reason she knows ton shit of History and Philosophy.

- She once made an essay about High School Musical named "Sharpay Evans was the real victim."

- She is a fanatic of car/bike video games like Need for Speed, etc

- Absolutely loves GTA and she used to play with Velvet and Blake all the time in Beacon

- She and Nora once went outside on a stormy day to see if by Nora activating her semblance she could electrocuted Yang so she could activate her own semblance... It strangely worked.

- She can't really cook but she's an amazing baker... Tho she only bakes on Ruby's birthday

- She has a whole archives of blueprint of some motors, cars, bikes, weapons, etc.

- Yang and Blake just used to go to clubs or bars to bet money on some dudes in pool and blackjack knowing damn well Blake was an expert on both.

- Yang knows different instruments, her favorite song to play is the Wii Sports song

Jaune:

- He loves romantic movies, The Notebook always makes him cry

- He learned to play guitar to impress girls to make him look like a tough guy, now he just play acoustic covers of Britney Spears discography.

- Circus is a personal favorite of him.

- He knows how to dance, used to do ballet with his sisters and once a boyfriend of one of his sisters taught him hiphop

- Has a teddy bear that he brings everywhere with him.

Nora:

- Fav food is pancakes but she absolutely loves eating pizza

- She always gives strange ideas to Yang since she knows Yang is a closet nerd and geek.

- She saw Pokemon once and since then have tried to imitate Pikachu attacks.

- Power Ranger is her shit.

- Hot girl shit

- If Ruby is a lamp, then she's a charger.

Ren:

- He did tried to dyed his hair pink but didn't like the result so decided for just a part of his hair pink.

- Everyone things he's the normal one of the group until you listen to him in a deep discussion with Weiss about Sailor Moon.

- Him and Blake casually bond once because of tea and now they just recommend each other new teas they have tried.

- He absolutely loves cartoons, Samurai Jack is one of his fav.

- The emo kid that is also a sunshine.

Oscar:

- "I cook and I clean"

- He just think Yang is cool and it doesn't matter how much Weiss tries to make him stop thinking that Ruby just tells some cool story about Yang.

- "Sir, they are my found family, can you please take me back to them?"

- Loves talking with Blake, she's always giving him books recommendations and she's one of the few that don't strictly treat him like a kid.

- He tried playing video games with Ruby... Let just say he prefers spending time with Ren now.

- Knows every word of Short King Anthem, he sings the chorus while Weiss and Nora rap the other 2 verses.

- He watch Love Island religiously and even has the game in his scroll.

Bonus:

- Sun made a GC with only Illia and Yang on it so they could talk about Blake but he forgot they don't have international communications anymore.

- Coco and Yang and Blake used to go to the same gay bar.

- Summer used to curse when playing video games with Qrow and one day Ruby heard her. Since Ruby could barely talk she didn't cared until at dinner Ruby said "Fuck" In her tiny baby voice and that's the first word Ruby said... Also Qrow was banned of playing video games with the girls in the same room because Summer blamed him.

- Phyrra was a musical fanatic that she and Yang just watched a musical every Sunday.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #phyrra nikos #nora valkyrie #lie ren #oscar pine #summer rose #qrow branwen #sun wukong #illia amitola

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bloody-wonder · 4 years ago

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the gritty realism of aftg characters speaking german

so the other day i read this meta about neil, nicky and the twins speaking german and, although it's fun and interesting, it was written by a native german speaker so most of it is pretty unrealistic - which ig is in keeping with the spirit of aftg, but nevertheless it inspired me to share my own thoughts on how these people who haven't been learning german for that long tbh would actually talk.

an accent

they all have it

yes even neil and nicky have it bc several years are not enough to get rid of it

the thing about the accent is that it's a Bitch. you aren't gonna get rid of it easily. learning a language is one thing, but getting rid of the accent is a different matter entirely - if you wanna do it, you'll have to fucking dedicate yourself to it, take regular classes with a pronunciation coach or some shit

yeah i know neil had to blend in but wanting or needing to have no accent won't really help you get rid of it. it doesn't work like that unfortunately

although nicky has been learning german longer than neil, his accent is worse bc he didn't have an additional motivation of having to blend in. usually, people will progress to a certain level where their accent doesn't hinder the understanding of what they say and stop at that. even if you really want to get rid of it, it won't happen or will happen very slowly just bc subconsciously you know that people understand you anyway. we don't know anything about erik but i doubt he's that person who will correct nicky's pronunciation after every sentence. ig nicky gets better at it when he moves to germany for good but in aftg he has that juicy american accent

the twins' accents are atrocious bc they don't have any motivation to improve their speech nor do they regularly talk to native speakers. they pronounce v as w (instead of f), z as z (instead of ts) and a as ei (instead of uh). and yeah ik andrew has eidetic memory but unless it influences how his toungue moves in his mouth it's not gonna be of much help

all of them say schwul (gay) instead of schwül (humid) regularly bc umlauts are difficult. aaron is probably the only one who gets mad at himself for messing up and tries to pronounce schwül correctly. the rest of them don't care and are content with only ever using the word schwul in both cases bc if god didn't want you to call the weather gay, he wouldn't have made the word schwul much easier to pronounce. nicky can pronounce both words but uses schwul more often on purpose

grammar

as far as i remember the twins had german in high school - and you can't really learn a language in a basic school course. nicky helped them a bit but i doubt that took the form of regular lessons several times a week so their grammar is probably all over the place

der/die/das nutella? how about der/die/das vogel instead?? grammatical genders are totally random and they are near impossible to learn, especially if your first language is english. you learn the genders of the words you use often in your day-to-day and professional life but with the rest you just kinda rely on your intuition and hope for the best. this is where andrew's eidetic memory would come in handy, but the rest of them are screwed. they probably just live their lives misgendering german nouns. if you speak german, just imagine all those aftg dialogues that are supposed to be in german, except half of the nouns are misgendered :)

mixing up dativ and genitiv? how about using exclusively nominativ for all the words in the sentence?

before you utter a sentence in german you have to think very carefully about your life choices: is the sentence in the past tense? do you need sein or haben? if it's in the present tense, is the verb you're gonna use separable, perchance? is there a subordinate sentence? bc you'll need a different word order for that. the german sentence is a mine field that can be navigated in spoken language only if you actually practice your speaking skills intensively and regularly which i don't think the twins have ever done or do. and it looks like they speak pretty fast and don't think ahead about what they're gonna say so i'm 99% sure all the grammar gets thrown out the window

they wouldn't really mix up formal you and informal you bc there's no one they have to address formally in german. they don't use Sie, it's not on their minds. what they do mix up however is du (informal you singular) and ihr (informal you plural)

fluency and cultural references

nicky's german is the best out of the four of them bc his relationship with his partner happens in this language. the reasons are practical (he probably talks to erik rather often) as well as psychological (what purposes you use the language for and what people you speak to in it have a big impact on your progress). btw he and erik probably only talk in german and can't switch to english at will bc when you establish a relationship in a language it becomes "the official language of your relationship". it's weird but this is how it is for many international multilingual couples

the rest of them are hardly fluent bc fluency isn't determined just by how long and where you've been learning the language but also by how often you use it and for what. it doesn't look like neil and the twins talk german very often and they use it only as their "private language" - which basically means they don't use it for anything. unless they will regularly join in on nicky and erik's conversations their german will get worse and worse

as for the very niche cultural references, i doubt that andrew and aaron really know any. neil knows some but doesn't really care anymore bc he doesn't live in germany anymore. with foreign culture, especially with all the proverbs and memes and old media you're supposed to learn as you grow up, there's the information itself and the emotional connotation that people who have grown up in this culture attach to it - and while you can explain the former to an outsider, you can't make them feel the latter. which is why i believe all the stuff neil and the twins learn, they forget very quickly. nicky maybe not so much, just bc erik probably talks to him about it constantly

tl;dr aftg characters speaking foreign languages fluently works only if you don't think about it too much ://

#neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #all for the game #aftg mine #if this looks like i'm nitpicking it's bc i am #this is literally the only purpose of this post #this is how i relax

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youngerdrgrey · 4 years ago

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a choice for the choiceless // a Batwoman, post-2x15 fic

about: Post 2x15, the ladies of the Bat Team try to help their friend, who seems almost resentful to be alive. How do you help someone when they’re in a place like this? + read on ao3

Notes: there was a lot in 2x15 (“Armed and Dangerous”), and this is partially me processing my own feelings, as well as everyone else’s. Spoilers below for that episode, as it picks up close after. Features the whole of our Bat Team; some Hamilfox and hints of Wildmoore feels here as well

Content Warnings: brief talk of suicidal ideology, hopelessness, and systemic violence against Black people

Luke stares out the window at The Hold Up. His shoulders cave inwards, and his neck strains to make up for the fact that he hasn’t totally turned towards the light. He watches it though. Tracks the people on the street while Sophie crosses back over to him with their coffees.

It’s been three days since Luke woke up from his coma. Sophie hasn’t spent a lot of time with him since then. Mostly, she talks with Jacob about what a new version of the Crows would require. She texts with Mary and Ryan, who swear that Luke will be back to his old self any day now. But Sophie wants to see for herself how he’s doing.

She sets his hot cup in front of him. The steam slips from the top of it. He glances over and nods his thanks in her direction.

Sophie starts light. “I’ve been meaning to congratulate you. You and Ryan really had me going when I ‘introduced’ you that day.” They’d pretended not to know each other, which gave Ryan a chance to poke fun at Luke. “I should’ve known you were joking. You don’t seem like a sweet drinks kind of guy.”

Luke picks up his cup. “I’m not.”

“Not the talkative kind of guy either?” she asks. Luke sighs into the top of his cup. Sophie offers a smile. “Hey, totally fine. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Probably about as good as you,” he says. His nostrils flare before he swipes under his nose. “Kate’s gone. Your mom won’t talk to you. The Crows are completely dismantled. In a few short months, you’ve essentially lost everything that you’ve spent your whole life working towards. How are you, Soph?”

On edge, with that list.

Sophie shifts back in her seat to get away from the cold facade that’s taken over Luke. She sips her own drink to buy a moment to process. He doesn’t mean to be blunt. He’s deflecting rather than talking about himself, but if Sophie can say the right thing, then maybe her words can help him out too.

“I’m… managing. I would much rather see all of this as a chance to start over.” At least that’s how she’s trying to see things. “Jacob’s getting clean. Ryan and I aren’t constantly fighting. She actually sat next to me on the couch yesterday without comment, so…. There's good stuff happening too. It’s not just a loss.”

Luke meets her eyes for a moment, but the warmth and curiosity that’s normally there is gone. Snuffed out. He takes another swig of his coffee, then sets the empty cup back onto the table.

“Glad to hear it,” he deadpans. “I’ll see you at the office.”

He pushes his chair back, and Sophie can’t find the words to tell him to stop. He walks off without another look at her. Sophie grabs her phone from her bag and calls Ryan.

Ryan speaks immediately. “Hey, how is he?”

Sophie sighs. “He’s still off.”

A walk sign beeps on Ryan’s end of the call. She says, “He came back from the dead. It can take a lot out of someone.”

“You bounced back pretty quick.” If Sophie remembers correctly, Ryan was back on the streets immediately. Sophie mourned Kate, and Ryan as Batwoman tore through the streets to try and take down the False Face Society. She didn’t shut down like this.

“I don’t think we can compare these. I said my goodbyes on that island, but Luke experienced one of the worst fears that we could have. Not to mention the constant think pieces and hashtags and infographics with him at the center. Give him some time. He’ll be fine.”

Luke has been a trending topic since the day of his shooting. Maybe he does only need time. Maybe he’ll snap out of it. But when Alice kidnapped Sophie nearly a year ago, Sophie would wake up from nightmares of being on that beam again. Nightmares where Batwoman didn’t swoop in, or the bomb went off, or Alice simply killed her. Sophie doesn’t have those nightmares much anymore. But sometimes, when she’s really stressed, or feeling extra alone, she can feel the winds whipping around her still.

Sophie clears her throat and clutches her phone a little tighter to her face. “Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

“I’m walking into the Tower right now. We’ve got him. Don’t worry.”

“Says the girl who cried in my arms last week.”

Ryan inhales sharply. “We’re not talking about that.”

Sure thing. They can just gloss over the fact that Ryan sank into Sophie’s arms like it was natural, or that they’d spent nearly ten minutes like that, just holding on and hoping that he would be okay. They’re still holding, even if they won’t admit it.

“Talk to him, Ryan. See if he talks back.”

“I will.”

Ryan puts off having a heart to heart with Luke for a few days. He’s clearly not in the mood. Every time she even tries to talk to him, he shuts her down like it’s her first week in the Bat Team all over again. So, she waits until he’s busy and tries to meet him where he’s at — beating the shit out of the punching bag in the Batcave.

The lights are barely on, so the Cave’s half in shadow. From the moment the elevator descends, all Ryan hears is the thick thud of the punching bag. The quick, hard hits of his bare fists. Luke hops from foot to foot in his fighting stance.

Ryan keeps her voice playful. “Try picking on someone your own size.” She sets him up with that. He’s got quite a few inches on her. He’d called her pocket size a few months back when she tried to show how threatening she could be outside of the suit.

But this version of Luke doesn’t even look at her. His whole body’s glistening with sweat at this point, and he grunts out, “I’m good,” before launching into a quick combo on the bag.

Ryan breezes down the catwalk to get to the training area. Closer now, he looks smaller than he used to. Like he’s not eating and instead spends all his time putting on tank tops and joggers and hiding out from the people who care about him.

She pops into her own fighting stance a few steps out of the danger zone.

“Well, I’m really good. I don’t mean to brag, but I am teaching multiple martial arts classes.”

He does a spin kick that sends the bag moving a lot further than it used to. How much time has he been spending down here? What’s he preparing for?

Luke steadies the bag. “I don’t want to fight you, Ryan.”

She takes the pause in his practice to grab the other side of the bag.

“Don’t worry, I can go easy on you. Since you’re still healing and all.” She offers him a teasing smile. His cue to joke back. It might’ve taken them a while to get there, but Ryan and Luke normally play like siblings. She’s never had a brother before him. She doesn’t want to fight either.

He sighs. “Desert rose healed me all up. It’s like it—” He readjusts the wraps on his hands. Finally, he meets her eyes, and the rage in them contradicts how forcibly still his voice sounds. “It’s like it never happened.”

Ryan says, “That’s a good thing, right? You don’t have to worry about scars come summertime.”

Luke jerks his head to the side to tell her to move. Ryan reluctantly lets the bag go, and he gets back to punching. His breath comes out short, but the way he’s hitting feels emotional. Sporadic and pained.

She takes a shaky breath. “Okay, not a good thing. You seem angry. I get anger. You said yourself that I charge into fights that I know I can’t win, and maybe that’s what I’m doing with you.” She has to talk louder over his increased punching speed. “If you want to fight, then we’ll fight. If you want to scream, then we can scream. But this silent brooding thing isn’t you, Luke.”

His head whips around to face her. The bag nearly hits him back as he scoffs at her. “You’ve known me less than a year. You have no idea who I am. Or what I want.”

She reaches her hands out to him. “Then tell me,” she pleads. “Because I want my friend back.”

The fire in his eyes gives way to something hollow. Something aching. He gulps. “Well, you got him.”

“Don’t sound so sad about it,” she says. His jaw twitches, and his nostrils flare. “Wait…. Are you sad about being back?”

Luke starts unwrapping his hands. “I’m fine, Ryan.”

She crosses over to get directly in his face. “But are you happy? Are you upset? Are you—”

“I’m fine!” he yells. His voice echoes through the Batcave, and Ryan flinches. He takes a second to drop his eyes before storming straight for the elevator. He calls over his shoulder. “You can tell Sophie that too.”

Ryan waits until he’s inside the elevator to reply. “What about Mary? You want me to lie to her too?”

Luke’s face crumbles. Then he steadies it back to stone. “Tell her whatever you want. I can’t stop you.” He flips the switch to leave.

Ryan screams because she knows he’ll hear it. Throws her weight behind a punch that sends the bag rattling on its chain.

“See,” Sophie holds her glass up for Ryan to refill, “I told you.” She frowns as she says it, which does make her normal righteousness less pronounced. The fact that she’s curled into herself on Ryan and Mary’s couch also helps lessen the blow.

Ryan dumps the last of their shared wine bottle into Sophie’s glass before plopping the bottle onto the coffee table. She settles back into her half of the couch.

Mary speaks up from her seat in the comfy chair. “What else can we do? If he’s not talking to any of us, or a therapist, then how are we supposed to get Luke back?”

Sophie shrugs.

Ryan suggests, “We could reach out to Stephanie. Maybe a nerd date will help Luke feel better.”

Mary says, “Just because you started dating Imani immediately after—”

Ryan cuts in, “I didn’t date her immediately after—”

Mary gets louder. “Yeah, you kind of did. Angelique left on the 3:15 train out of Gotham, and Imani came in at 3:30.” She rubs the tense spot between her eyebrows. “No judgment, but maybe that’s not the answer.”

Ryan glances to Sophie for a little support, but the ex-Crow finds her wine real interesting around then. Ryan should defend herself. She dated Imani to get out of her head. Angelique was her first love, but she and Ang weren’t meant to be each other’s only relationship. Waiting around wouldn’t have changed the fact that Ang was starting a new life. Ryan had to start one too.

She shifts on the couch, so her knees can tuck under her body better. Her leg bumps into Sophie’s, and neither of them make a move to shift away. Sophie stares down at their point of contact.

“Maybe he just needs to know we’re here for him. We keep showing up, and eventually, he’ll have to talk to us.”

Ryan nods. “In that case, you’re up, Mary.”

Mary sighs into her wine. “No pressure, right?”

Mary and Luke don’t hang out a ton in the real world. Usually, they’re in the Batcave when they spend time together. Or he helps her at the clinic. So, she figures that she shouldn’t exactly rock the boat too far.

Luke sits down on one of the exam chairs in the clinic. The whole space is empty, with the closed sign on the front door. He shrugs out of his jacket. She tries not to look as nervous as she feels.

“Thanks for coming down.” She wrings her hands before stopping herself and planting them firmly against her sides. “I wanted to see how the desert rose in your blood compares to mine, or Ryan’s. So, uh, it shouldn’t take too long to do the draw.”

Luke nods. “Sure thing.” He rolls the sleeve of his left arm up. “I’m all yours.”

“Right.” She chuckles, but it’s a breathless kind. The kind that she needs to clear her throat to cover.

The tray’s already prepped beside him with the needle and test tubes. She rolls her own chair to stop beside him. It’s honestly the closest they’ve been since he’s gotten out of the hospital. He probably doesn’t even remember her being there. Or what she said about needing him just before he came back. That’s probably too intense of a topic to start with.

She ties a band on his arm to make his veins pop. She wouldn’t need it normally. Luke’s got great veins. Great skin in general. Softer than she’d expect for a guy who spends all his time in the same suit. She actually hasn’t seem him in casual clothes that often, come to think of it. Does he own casual clothes?

Luke chuckles. “You’re thinking pretty hard there. First time?”

Mary springs for the needle. “Ha ha. I just… started thinking about… my dad. Because of veins! And Snakebite. He’s, um… doing better?”

He smiles at her, like actually gives a short glimpse of connection. “That’s really good to hear.”

Mary runs with it. “Yeah, and he’s talking about his feelings. And Alice even warned me that somebody might try to hurt me. It’s weird, and I don’t want Alice as my family, but it’s also nice to not feel super alone….” She pricks him then. His face scrunches for a second, and she watches the vial fill up rather than watching his face. “It’s why I’m so grateful to you and Ryan and Sophie. You’ve been my family through all of this. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Luke’s left arm twitches, but it doesn’t feel like a blood thing. More like he wants to reach out with it. She keeps her eyes low and unlatches the first vial. Grabs the second and lets that one fill too.

Luke says, “I guess it’s different for me. I have my mom, but…. Did you know she calls me every single day for check-ins?” He sounds tired but amused. “She sent me an Amazon link for a bulletproof vest yesterday. Never mind the fact that I run Wayne Tech and have literally made a better one in my sleep.” His jaw trembles. “But I get it. She almost lost me in the same exact way that we lost my dad. I-I almost did that to her.”

Mary scrambles to say, “You didn’t do anything.”

“I would have. If… if the choice were up to me, I would not have come back.” He turns to face Mary again. “A-and I love my mom. And I love our team. But I am so tired of being a part of a world like this.”

Her heart crumbles in her chest. The vial nearly overflows, and she has to grab the third one. Her hands shake as she goes for it. Her voice shakes too. “You sound kind of… schmuicidal when you say stuff like that.”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” he says. He sounds sure of that.

“But you want to die?” she asks.

“I don’t want….” He sighs and rephrases. “I just want to be somewhere else sometimes. And this whole thing has made anywhere else seem better. I mean, I was in a coma, Mary, and they were photoshopping a gun into my hand. Why would I want to be here?”

She stops the blood drawing to hold his hand. “I’m here. And Batwoman is here.”

He balls his fist beneath her grip. “And no one’s checking to see if me or Ryan are a part of the team. I’ve spent my whole life doing things the right way, and I am exhausted.”

Mary lifts her other hand to open his fist. She turns his hand so they can be palm to palm, so she can thread her fingers through his and let him feel where she’s at too. Because she might be exhausted for different reasons, but she’s tired too.

“I think it’s okay to be exhausted. And to want a break. But you can’t let all of this break you. And if it feels like it is, then I’d really like to help hold you together.” She smiles at him, and he glances away to blink some of the tears out of his eyes. She lifts her voice to add on, “Preferably with the help of a licensed psychological professional.”

“You’re not licensed, and you save lives.” He squeezes the hand in hers. “You saved me.”

Mary nods. “True, but an actual therapist could help you talk through this stuff without you feeling like you’re going to be judged, or a burden — which you’re not.” She practically scoots out of her seat to be closer to him. Her knees knock into the side of his chair, and she would totally feel ridiculous if not for the fact that he angles his body towards her too. “God, Luke, I am so glad that you’re talking to me. I want to know how you feel and what you’re going through. But I also know that a therapist can put this in a perspective that I can’t. So please consider talking to one?”

He holds her stare for a moment. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Next time you want to talk, you just take me to dinner instead of taking my blood.”

Mary laughs, and Luke laughs too. “Deal.”

Luke’s in the bathroom when Mary texts the girl group chat.

Mary to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 He sounds better. We’re getting dinner and hopefully he’s getting a therapist.

Sophie to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 Great job, Mary.

Ryan to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 That’s my girl! Or Luke’s girl? 👀

Sophie to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 Ryan, they’re just getting dinner

Ryan to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 For now ;)

Mary leaves them on read and stuffs her phone back into her purse. Luke comes back out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a paper towel. “Ready to go?”

Mary nods. “Yeah, we’ll find our way back.” It’s the only choice they have.

a/n: The hopelessness that Luke feels in this episode and the near constant mix of emotions feel so true to my experiences over the last few years. one thing that they have gotten very right are different aspects of these Black experiences. There’s a lot to work through, and I’ve found that therapy and leaning on friends has been real helpful. Hope that Luke gets that too. Hope that you all have that as well.

Let me know how you’re feeling, re: this, or this season. Talk to me, Gotham. I’ll talk back.

#Batwoman #Luke fox #Mary Hamilton #hamilfox #batwoman fic #Ryan wilder #Sophie Moore #bat team #bat team of color #mine #Batwoman: s2 #Batwoman: 215

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petekaos · 4 years ago

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wherever you’re going, i’m going (that way)

Man, Boss, and Sarawat: best friends in every sense of the word. They grew up together, around the same dinner tables and in the same playgrounds, in the same schools and in the same neighbourhood. Together, they only exude warmth. This is some of their story, inspired by Frank Ocean’s version of Moon River and told in parts, from childhood to university.

Sarawat meets Man and Boss in primary school, when he looks up and spots a small boy hiding in between the leaves on a branch, clutching to it like a lifeline. His fists are white and his face, half obscured, betrays no fear. Sarawat squints, then rubs his eyes, making sure’s he’s seeing correctly. When he’s made sure his eyes haven’t betrayed him, he picks up a small pebble from the ground and lobs it at the boy. It misses the mark, hits the branch, and ricochets off back onto the ground.

“Hey!” says the boy in the tree, pouting down at him. “What’d you do that for?”

“Why’re you in the tree?” says Sarawat, hands on the hips. He assesses the tree, and moves over to it. He has to be very careful. His baby brother, Phukong, is only five, and if Sarawat breaks a bone, there’ll be nobody to protect him anymore. He grips onto the trunk and pulls himself up a branch.

“I’m hiding,” says the boy, eyes widening as Sarawat makes slow, yet steady motion up the tree. “Don’t come up! He’ll see you!”

Sarawat ignores him. He hasn’t climbed a tree in a while, his feet slipping off a branch and his heart falling into his stomach as he grasps onto another branch, barely hoisting himself up. They still have ten whole minutes left of break, so he supposes it should be okay to sit up here. The boy is still above him, but Sarawat is content with sitting a couple of branches underneath him and watch the clouds float by. He’s always been fascinated with the sky, so much so that his parents had gotten him a telescope for his birthday, and he had taught Phukong to look through the lens and spot all the stars. The sun is bright and golden today.

He looks up. “Who’re you hiding from?” he asks. He doesn’t seem to know this boy’s name--but he barely knows anyone’s. Sarawat likes keeping to himself, sitting at the far back and drawing during maths lesson, or adding up the little numbers he can when they’re supposed to be drawing. He doesn’t have friends, not like Phukong, anyway, who’s a hit at his kindergarten.

“Boss,” says the boy. “He’s really good at searching! But I told him I didn’t like trees, so he won’t search here.”

Sarawat smiles, looking back out towards the sky. He thinks he’s heard the name Boss, maybe shouted by exasperated teachers when he spills his juice box, or mixes the paint up into the little palettes, or when he falls back in line. “I’ll hide with you ‘till he gets here,” he offers, sneaking a glance up at the boy, who grins so wide that his eyes scrunch up into little half-moons, and something lodges itself out of place in Sarawat’s chest.

“Thanks!” he says, smiling still. “I’m Man! I’m Boss’s best friend, that’s what he says. What’s your name? Do you have a best friend?”

“I’m Sarawat,” he replies, separating the syllables in his name so he can pronounce it better. His hands tighten around the branch. “I don’t really have a best friend.”

Man’s smile turns into a little frown. Sarawat thinks he liked it better when he was smiling. “You don’t?” he says, the end of the sentence lilted down with a pout. Something sparks, and he lights back up happily. “That’s okay! I’ll be your best friend!”

Sarawat’s heart lifts as he holds on tighter, lest he fall. His hands slip a little, but he keeps them in place as he leans against the trunk. “Really?” he says, hope seeping into his voice. “But what about Boss?”

“We can both be your best friends,” says Man, and shrugs, like it’s something easy. Sarawat’s chest tightens up--he’d never thought he’d have a best friend, let alone two. There’s just something about the sky today, with the sun so warm and dependable, and the blue skies free for their flying. The clouds are light, and so is Sarawat. “That’s okay, right? Boss is a bit weird, but my mum says he’s a nice boy!”

“Isn’t it against the rules to have two best friends?” says Sarawat, a little too fast. He’s--scared. That Man will think he’s strange, and that he’s just doing it to be nice. It’s better to back out now than to be made fun of later, he decides.

Man scoffs. “Who cares about the rules?” he says. “You’re my best friend now!”

Before Sarawat can say anything, a voice calls up from the bottom of the tree, loud and high-pitched. “Man!” the person shouts. “I can see your shorts; found you! And--Man, can you hear me? The teacher said there’s a beehive in that tree!”

Sarawat watches as Man whips his head around behind him, his eyes widening as he takes in what neither of them had seen before: a beehive, complete with swarming bees and sticky honey. Sarawat doesn’t mind bees, he’s been stung by them before, and he knows well enough to keep away from them. Man, however, starts breathing heavily, panicking as he clambers down the tree, hands and feet barely gripping onto the branches. “Wat!” he yells back up, and it takes a couple of seconds for Sarawat to realise he means him. He’s never been given a nickname before. “Wat, get down!”

“They’re just bees,” says Sarawat, squinting down at him.

“My mum says I’m al--allergic to them,” he says, jumping off the tree and onto the ground. “Come on, Wat, break’s nearly over!”

Sarawat slides down the tree as fast as he can, digging splinters into his hands and tearing open some skin at his knees. He doesn’t seem to mind, his heart coasting on the high that comes with the knowledge of having two new best friends. When his feet hit ground, the boy he vaguely recognises as Boss comes bounding up to him, the world’s brightest grin curling up at his mouth. Sarawat finds himself smiling, too.

“Man told me we’re best friends now!” he says, tugging at Sarawat’s arm. “Come, let’s go ask for bandages for your knees.”

If Sarawat had to pinpoint the first time he learned what love was, he’d say it was sitting under the tree with Man and Boss, the playground eerily quiet as everyone else had gone back inside, and their six-year-old hands had fumbled with the plasters, putting them clean over Sarawat’s knees after the teacher had dabbed disinfectant onto them. Man had laughed, told him they had Spider-Man bandages at home, and he should come over to look at them soon. Boss had proudly showed him all of his scars and called him Wat.

The three of them, under the bright blue sky, and Sarawat had never felt more at home.

---

“Tell me we got into the same class,” says Boss, leaning back into his chair heavily as he refuses to check his e-mail. Sarawat shakes his head at him, pushing the plate of food over to Boss. He hasn’t eaten yet, and Boss only does that when he’s nervous or antsy. He has been since yesterday night, when Man and Boss had decided to camp out on Sarawat’s bedroom floor without prior notice, and had bickered all night long about the upcoming school year and their gradual transition into high school. Man is passed out on the kitchen table now, with his breakfast lying untouched in front of him. He blinks back to consciousness, drool spilling out of his mouth.

“Time is it?” he slurs, hand scrabbling around for his phone.

Sarawat stares at his e-mail notification. They’d decided to mix the classes up, and all three of them had been anxious about it for all of the summer. Man had nearly cried when Boss had gone on holiday for a week with his family, saying it was time he might not have with him during the school year. Sarawat had told him off for being dramatic, but the same storm had been raging in his heart. “It’s nine,” he says blindly. He closes his eyes. He clicks, waiting for the e-mail to load, and quickly scans down the content. “And I’m in A.”

“A?” says Boss, his voice strangled. “Shit, dude, I’m in C.”

Man squints at his phone, eyes half-closed as the bright light spills back over his face. “I’m in C,” he says, looking at Boss. “Boss, I’m in C.”

Sarawat’s heart drops as he refreshes his e-mail, checking for a sign, a mistake, anything. When nothing comes, he puts his phone back onto the table and takes a deep breath in. Man and Boss stare back at him. Sarawat doesn’t have anything for them, so he spreads his hands out and says, “Tough luck for me, I guess.” A forced chuckle. “It’s okay.”

Man grips his arm. “We’re just in different classes,” he says, and if there’s one thing Sarawat has learned about Man, it’s that he means everything he says. “I’m gonna see if anyone wants to switch with you, okay, Wat?”

“You don’t need to do that--”

“Already on it,” says Boss, a spoon of sticky rice in his mouth as he types away at his phone. “I bet Gamon wants to switch.”

“Guys,” says Sarawat, “you really don’t--”

“Come on, Wat,” says Boss, rolling his eyes as he spares a second to look away. “What did we say? We’ll go the same way as long as we want to, yeah? Do you still want to?”

“Of course I want to,” says Sarawat, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“Then that’s that,” says Man, lighting up as he looks at Sarawat. “Boss was right; Gamon wants to switch! We’ll go to the administration office on Monday then, okay?”

A small smile curls up at the corner of Sarawat’s mouth. “Okay.”

---

“This is the third take,” complains Boss, draping himself over the armchair. Sarawat catches the little glare that Man throws over his shoulder, before setting the phone back up against the stack of books they spent too much time arranging. Man settles back down against Boss, letting him throw an arm around his shoulder and pull him closer. Sarawat smiles a little; it comforts him, how easy they are with affection. Boss continues with, “You need to relax! Loosen up a little!”

Sarawat holds his guitar a little closer to him. “It’s difficult,” he says, and it comes out more vulnerable than he wants it to. Man shifts closer to him. “I don’t know. I... isn’t it a little strange? I only saw a second of his smile.”

“A second is all you need, sometimes,” says Man, hand gripping around his shoulder. His eyes are earnest, his hair all soft down around his forehead. Boss leans closer to him. They’d marched here right after school, Sarawat’s head in the clouds all day as he had floated through class, barely paying attention. “You like him, right? You don’t have to have a list of reasons why.”

“Are you sure?” asks Sarawat, gripping the neck of his guitar so tightly, he feels as if he’s about to snap it in half.

“Come on, Wat,” says Boss, and it’s the most serious he’s ever heard him sound. “Would we lie to you? Besides, you like him--that’s it. It doesn’t matter why. You know we’ve got you, and I’ll even fucking sit through another thirty takes of this until you’re happy.”

Tears prick at Sarawat’s eyes as he blinks them away. He inhales deeply. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Thank you.”

Boss blinks at him. “Thank... you...?” he repeats, and then smacks Sarawat up across the head. “We’ve known each other for more than ten years, don’t start thanking us now.”

“But I--” starts Sarawat, and Man puts a finger to his lips, effectively cutting him off.

“Just play,” he says, shooting him a thumbs up. “You got this! He’ll fall head over heels for you, I promise.”

Sarawat exhales. Man never says anything he doesn’t mean, much like Boss. He collects himself, thinks of the boy with the stunning smile who puts the sun itself to shame, the sky bowing in front of his brilliance, and presses play on the video.

---

“I can’t believe I found him.”

They’re lying on Sarawat’s dorm floor, looking up at the ceiling fan whirring around them. Man and Boss have their heads to his, a comic on Boss’s chest from when Man hit him over the head with it for being silly. It’s past midnight, snacks littering the floor all around them and three open soda cans on the desk for safety. Sarawat wasn’t able to sleep when they had all crowded into the bed as they always do, ever since they were kids, sharing one blanket and sticking ice cold toes into the backs of each other’s knees. Man and Boss had originally almost bickered themselves into sleep, curling around each other like commas, and Sarawat had simply stared at the fan and seen the boy with the sunshine smile instead. At some point, his best friends had wisened up to the fact that he was laying awake, and they had migrated to the floor amidst getting food and drinks. Sarawat can’t see them from this angle, but he knows they’re half-awake.

Boss snorts in response. “Can’t believe you told him you’d fucking kiss him ‘till he dropped,” he says, and Sarawat groans.

“Must you never let me live down the worst moment of my life?” he says, as he hears Man thwack him with the comic again. “What else was I supposed to say?”

Man sighs. “I don’t know,” he says, voice riddled with sleep. “Maybe something like hi?”

In hindsight, Sarawat supposes that would have been a good idea. “Okay, but what do I do now?” he asks, and he can feel Man’s shrug against the ground.

“You know who he is, now,” says Man, and Sarawat twists to be able to see him. Man puts a hand up in the air, counting on his fingers. “I did a bit of sleuthing earlier, and found out that his name is Tine--”

Sarawat’s breath stays stuck in his chest. “Tine,” he breathes. It rolls off his tongue so easily. “What a gorgeous name.”

Boss groans into a pillow, muffled. “Man, he’s insufferable.”

“We’ve been friends for more than a decade, we’re not backing out now,” says Man, and even if it’s a joke, it still comforts Sarawat, sparks warmth in his bones and lays him to rest. He could lie on the floor here forever, as long as Man and Boss were by his side. “His name is Tine, he studies law, and he’s a cheerleader.”

Boss whistles under his breath. “Smart, good-looking, and a damn cheerleader?” he says. “He’s a catch, Wat.”

“I know,” says Sarawat, and he does. He’s known since he first saw that smile a year ago, knew it in the way his world moved on another axis after that, knew it in the way nobody else’s smile compared. “Do you think--if I became friends with him, at least--that he’d like me?”

“He better,�� says Boss, almost fierce. He props his chin up on his hands. “Obviously, he doesn’t have to, but he’d be an idiot not to. You’re handsome as hell, you play football and you play the guitar, and you’re the best guy I know.”

Man rolls his eyes at Boss, but copies his actions all the same. “We’ll help you, okay?” he says, and it clicks with Sarawat. His best friends never say anything they don’t mean. From declaring that they’ll be his best friends, to getting him into their class, to making that promise, to saying he’ll see Tine, to now. “Anything. You just say the word.”

Sarawat swallows. They don’t say it often, really. Maybe on birthdays, or when they had graduated, or after exams, or just during a moment where the sun falls just right and the sky promises enough exploration. But it seems like the right time now. The fan is whirring, all the food is open, they’re lying on the floor, and Sarawat’s heart overflows. “I love you two,” he says, without any hesitation. “You know that, right?”

“Of course we do,” says Boss, grin pulling up at his mouth. “Love you too, sap.”

“Love you, Wat,” echoes Man, and Sarawat settles back into the floor, smiling.

---

On graduation day, after four gruelling years of political science at a university level, Man and Boss disappear. Their little gang sends Sarawat off to find them, and good that they did, because Sarawat finds them after five minutes of searching in a place nobody else would have known, nor expected.

“We’re too old to climb trees,” grumbles Sarawat, pulling himself up the trunk to where Man and Boss settle on sturdy branches. The movements are familiar, even if they are more than a decade old. The little grooves in his hands make it easier for him to grip onto the branches, until he reaches his best friends. He positions himself to look out at the setting sun from in between the leaves. “Did you two check for beehives?”

“Don’t scare me like that,” says Man, head whipping around to check the tree. Sarawat laughs a little at that before Man settles back down against the trunk.

“Besides, Wat, too old is a scam,” says Boss, sticking his tongue out at him. “I’m a kid at heart.”

Man smiles at him, and Sarawat doesn’t know if it’s softer because it’s a new chapter of their life, or if it’s because of the sun, casting everything in a golden light. “We know,” says Man, and Boss laughs. It’s comforting. It’s the same laugh that Sarawat has heard all his life. “Graduation day, guys. Did you ever think we’d make it this far?”

“I thought I’d fail something at some point,” says Boss, cracking his fingers. “But we’re here. We made it.”

Sarawat looks at the sky. Warm orange, and it fills his heart with a feeling he cannot describe. If he squints down below, he could probably see Tine and the rest of their friends. “What now?” he says, putting a name to all of his doubts of the past weeks.

“Well,” says Man, almost wistful, “life’s just around the bend, isn’t it?”

Boss snorts. “What, have you been talking with Fong too much lately or something?” he says, and earns a smack across his hair for his efforts. Sarawat hides a smile in his elbow.

“You know,” he says, thinking back to more than a decade ago. “We’ve never really been fans of any rules, have we? I don’t know--as long as you two are my best friends, as long as we can... walk the same path together--I don’t think I’d be scared.”

“Who else is going to climb trees with you?” says Boss, one of his rare and genuine smiles shining through. “Forever’s a long time. But you two better stay with me for all of it.”

“We made that promise, remember?” says Man, looking out at the sun dipping below the horizon. “We walk the same path, as long as we want to. All of us together.”

They watch the sun set, then, the chilly air setting in and making Sarawat wish he had wrapped himself tighter, but the warmth exuding from his best friends being enough to keep going. When they end up stumbling down the tree and making their way back to everyone else in the twilight, the first stars twinkling above them, Sarawat thinks back to what Man said.

Life really is just around the bend. As long as he has Man and Boss to walk through it with, he’ll be just fine.

#2gether #still2gether #sarawatine #sarawat #boss (2gether)#man (2gether)#white lion gang #i hope y'all like this because it's barely proofread and PURELY self indulgent!#'wherever you're going i'm going the same/that way' and 'life's just around the bend (my friend)' is from moon river!#rahul writes

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bangtanlalaland · 4 years ago

Text

falcon | jjk 01 (m.)

synopsis ⇣ Jungkook Jeon, known as “Falcon,” unites with his best friend to rebel against the twisted, dominant system of the city, Python, until everything changes when he crosses paths with one of many enemies.

— dystopia au; enemies to lovers au

⇢pairing: free runner!jeon jungkook x detective!female reader ⇢featuring: free runner!park jimin, free runner!kim namjoon, free runner!min yoongi & police captain!jung hoseok

⇢genre: angst, fluff, smut

⇢word count: 12.2k

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: (this fic is totally inspired by mirror’s edge), there’s isn’t any smut in this chapter (but there will be in future chapters), slow burn, some fluff in there, so much dialogue (it’s literally a MOVIE), some violence, some blood, some death, swearing lots of action (oops), fighting, free-running, lots & lots of drama (srsly get your popcorn ready), mentions of premonitions, major plot twists, infidelity (sorta?), mentions of sex, some sope action (yes i said it), namgi is also a thing (oop), basically jungkook is a rebel & proud, jimin is very clever (like woah), namjoon is a leader & sweetheart (as always), yoongi is a bad guy (¿woahhh did we expect that?) hoseok is a fuckboi (i’m sorry ugh :(((), also viper in this story is actually taehyung (oop), police stuff (duh), lots of bi stuff going on here, (much love for the lgbtq community)

artwork poster by: @hellenys

song rec: “falcon” by jaden smith

a/n: woah! so this is yet another wip that I’ve had for so long. I’ve made the decision to make this a series! (or maybe a two-shot) still not 100% sure yet, but I am honestly beyond relieved to finally release this. also a huge thank you to @hellenys for the artwork! I was actually inspired to start writing falcon after seeing her work. (specifically the photo above^) so you guys go check her out, her artwork is amazing!

Smack.

The sound of your boss dropping a chunky stack full of vanilla colored folders onto your desk, in your cubicle, startles your attention from sipping your now third afternoon dose of coffee. You swear he has been on your ass ever since you stepped foot into the clouded atmosphere of the police department. You were convinced you’re in Hell. Literally.

He eagerly spills, “These missing persons reports aren’t going to solve themselves. I can’t even step out for a $5 burger at that fast food shit place down the street without the press breathing down my neck about the citizens’ missing loved ones.”

You sigh for what has been the one thousandth time today so far. Going on one thousand-one. This city has been getting worse as the days go by, missing persons reports dating as far as 10 years back, maybe more if you really dig deep in there. Runners scatter the rooftops of the city, yet you and your entire team were left with zero leads. And your boss was right; the press was constantly nagging like a toddler at the age of two. Yet you and your tiny team were responsible for getting hands dirty and finding answers. And here he goes yet again…

“Contact the victims families. See if there’s any new information they could give us. Just in case. Over time, victims may remember details they happened to leave out- ” The phone for the department rings on your desk, and you hold your index finger up as if to politely ask your boss to shut his damn mouth so you can answer the phone.

“Python Police Department.” Your face grows concerned, mouthing to your boss: “Missing Person.” He throws his hands up and shakes his head in response, waiting for your departure from the phone. The elderly woman seemed borderline upset, but mostly depressed. As if all the life that was once in her was drained completely. After reassuring you will find answers, you hang up and turn to face your boss.

“It was a lady named Mrs. Jeon. She wants to follow up on the case for her son. Jungkook?” You say, more so as a question rather than a statement, in hopes that you pronounced his name correctly. Your boss nods in approval, clearly knowledgeable of who you’re talking about.

“Yeah she calls here at least one or twice a week saying the same thing over and over again,” he pauses momentarily then starts, “I remember that kid. He was in high school when his mother reported him missing,” he continues while shaking his head.

“I’ll never forget the day dispatch called me out there to see what was going on. This was back in my rookie detective days. At first I thought maybe he’s just playing hooky. Happens all the time, right?” You nod in agreement. You’d heard of his name before but never looked into it, considering you’d just been promoted 4 months ago. And for the first month, you’d only been sent to canvas witnesses. Although sadly, Jungkook is simply one among hundreds if not thousands of cases that have gone cold.

He continues, “But then, we checked the grid and his chip was gone. We didn’t get any alerts about its removal, so it was definitely shocking.”

“That doesn’t make sense. What do you mean it was gone?” You ask with crossed arms.

“Well, more like the grid showed that the chips’ location was his home. Obviously, he isn’t home and we searched the house. No chip.” He pauses for a moment as if processing what he’s about to say, “Someway, somehow, he removed himself from the grid. But, he wasn’t the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I reassured Mrs. Jeon that if he didn’t show up in two days then we could file a missing persons report. She insisted that something was wrong and didn’t want to wait two days. But she had no other choice, and so she filed the report and days turned into weeks, months, and years.”

“How long?” You question.

With a sigh he replies, “Five.”

“No wonder she’s calling.”

“I know. But that’s the weirdest thing about it. As I mentioned, Jungkook wasn’t the only one with a missing chip.” He reassures with a sigh of what you assume is exhaustion.

“And?”

Your boss squints his eyes, as if he’s thinking.

“Follow me.”

He leads you to the “Cold Cases” room. It looks almost like a library, but instead of children books it’s several cases from murders to runaways — where endless amounts of evidence, files, reports, and other tangible items are stored. He scrambles through a pull out drawer of folders labeled and sectioned off in alphabetical order. He then pulls out a vanilla folder, and opens the file, revealing a photo of a young teen with dark, brown hair and plump, pink lips.

“Mrs. Park. Mother of Jimin Park. She filed a missing persons report the same day Mrs. Jeon did. They actually came together. And apparently they live on the same street.” He states while exiting the room and striding you into his office.

You inquire, trying to catch up to his quick pace. “So what are you implying?”

“I think…” he trails off, placing the folder on top of his desk and flopping into his office seat. “Jungkook and Jimin decided to drop out of school and run away in the sunset together.”

“And why would you assume that?”

“Well, let’s talk about the runners that run the rooftops. I know you’re still trying to get the hang of things, but there’s a pattern with this.”

“Okay?” You more-so question, rather than stating.

“First things first. Their chips. Runners always remove them, except we get alerts when done so.” He pauses. Of course you’re aware of the misdemeanor charge for that, right?” You nod in a “yes” gesture.

“Good. So, first they remove the chips. Second, they completely vanish. No one sees them for good and has no knowledge of where they are. It’s like they never existed, right? Families, friends, co-workers or whoever they know don’t see them anymore.”

You nod again, catching along. “Mmhmm.”

“Then, a missing persons report is filed. Either by a relative or a close friend. With that being said, it only makes sense that Jungkook and Jimin would be close together at least. I mean surely if Mrs. Park filed a report with Mrs. Jeon then couldn’t they both have known each other? Or at least had some knowledge of the relationship their sons had with one another? And again, the chips. Surely, they were in this together, and there’s not one part of me that doubts it.”

You take a deep sigh, soaking this information in, “Makes sense.”

“Look,” he says, while moving closer to you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You gaze upon him, admiring the beauty mark on the left side of his top lip. His chocolate waves crown his face.

“What I’m trying to say is- If you find one of them, chances are you’ll find the other. Just… please be careful, ____. If these guys can suddenly vanish off the grid without a trace, who knows what else they’re capable of?”

Meanwhile, Jimin barges into a hideout on a rooftop (now part of an abandoned building) far into the city, but enough distance from prying eyes. He’s panting, out of breath, sweating and bent over as he removes his earpiece, swiping the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. He runs his fingers through his jet, black strands. The sun slightly scorched his once pale cheeks, resulting in a rosy, pink shade.

“Fuck!”

Namjoon removes his headset and arises from his seat in the area that he and his mates have labelled as “coms,” having hacked into the city’s surveillance system.

“Good job, Phoenix. Water?” He asks, while offering Jimin a sip of his bottled water, before downing it completely.

“Fuck, no. I almost fucking died!” Jimin replies, still panting.

“Relax. You’re alive, aren’t you?” Namjoon retorts nonchalantly.

He crushes his plastic bottle and lunges it toward Jungkooks slumped figure over the couch nearby. He grunts in response, jerking up in his sleep. Being on the run for the past 5 years has only caused him to be as alert as a hawk.

“You’re up next, Falcon.” Jungkook shakes his head, gaining consciousness of his surroundings again. His black tank top and white nylon sweats having stuck to his form. His milk, chocolate strands blanket his face as he sits up, rubbing his eyes. The faint sunlight helps to awaken him from his slumber, as he covers his eyes to adjust to the sunrays. Jimin, who now has gained his breath back, flings his earpiece at Jungkook.

“Blue lights are heavy today. Watch your ass, huh?” With that, Jungkook stretches upward while placing the earpiece on. On his way towards the tiny kitchen area, Namjoon keys into the channel.

“Thunderbird for Falcon.” Jungkook gulps his banana milk and returns the carton to its place in the fridge. Wiping his mouth to rid the milk residue, he responds, “Go for Falcon.”

“I’m sure you probably don’t want to hear this. But it’s time for a test run.”

Jungkook is silent, yet internally screaming. He hates test runs. Who doesn’t though?

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ve told you before that one time won’t count. But, I need to calculate your momentum, and it helps tremendously to compare to your previous test runs.” Jungkook wasn’t worried about speed, but more so about his body. The last time he’d done a test run, he had completely passed out from overworking his body. Namjoon couldn’t leave the hideout, given that blue lights were everywhere and he didn’t want to risk not having anyone watching over the place. Luckily Jimin was already out for a run, and decided to take a detour to rescue his best friend. But, Jungkook does not like to fail. In fact, he despises it. He’s afraid that he’d fail. Again. He takes a deep breath.

“I know you can do it. The advantage now is that you actually got rest.” Jungkook couldn’t help but nod in agreement. He knew the last time he was going non-stop and being the stubborn bunny he is, Namjoon warned him more than once that he’d burnout sooner or later. But that’s the conflict with Jungkook. He grew complacent of being on the run constantly. It’s his life now; he hates the society he lives in and refuses to live according to the systems’ standards.

“Copy that, Thunderbird.” Jungkook responds, his arms and hands flexing, veins popping, as he slips on his neon red fingerless gloves. He pulls the straps of his black mask over and behind his ears — completely concealing most of his face.

Namjoon smiles in response, “That’s what I like to hear! Let’s bring that energy to the test, Falcon.”

Back at the station, you step out of your formal addression towards your boss and slip, “Hobi, I’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just can’t see myself losing you. You know how much you mean to me, right?” He asks, while reaching his hand towards your cheek with the intent to caress you but your reflexes immediately catch on, and you turn the opposite direction while muttering under your breath, “You know that we can’t-”

“I know. Sorry.”

A brief moment of silence shares the space between you both. Hoseok Jung, or as your recent pet name for him: Hobi, is not only the police captain of the Python Police Department, but currently your main squeeze as well. At least, that’s what you’d like to think. You can’t quite pinpoint what “this” with him is, given that neither of you made it official yet or set any boundaries. Which resulted in this continuous cycle of confusion on where you stand in this said “situationship.” But you don’t probe him, instead you just go with the flow and see where things lead. The only major conflict is that no one at the station should know about your doings. Or else there would be major consequences to face. You suppose that’s why Hoseok is the way he is with you. Maybe you’re nothing but a fling to him. Although some of the things he says deem otherwise.

“Last I heard, his street name is Falcon.” Hoseok skims through a folder on his desk that contains numerous papers, all to what you assumed held important information, then he pulls one out.

“I have a list of coordinates for locations where security cameras are installed and picked up high runner activity. Check those out and see if there are any leads. If no luck, go out and canvas witnesses on the street.” You nod in agreement, gathering your belongings to head on your way when suddenly you feel Hoseok’s grasp on your wrist. You immediately turn your gaze towards him, eyes blown wide as saucers.

“Please, be careful. Call me when you make it to the first and last location.” You eye his grip on you and snatch away quickly, regaining your composure.

“I will,” you respond, while slipping out of his office to leave the building.

On the rooftops, Jungkook gets into position. Staring ahead of himself, he takes a deep breath, awaiting Namjoon’s marker. A tiny droplet of sweat drips down the right side of his face, trailing down to his neck.

“On your mark. Ready.” Jungkook takes another deep breath. The sun suddenly becomes beyond its warm state, at this point, it’s scorching. His palms are damp. The black of his tee absorbs the city’s heat.

“Set.”

His mind goes racing in a million different ways. It was strange that at this moment, his mother crosses his mind. He wondered if she was okay. But, he couldn’t risk seeing her. Exposing himself. Then blue lights would find out, and he’d be done. For good.

No, can’t risk it. No matter how much it hurts.

Since the age of 18, Jungkook called the rooftops his home. Some part of him felt selfish for only thinking of himself and leaving his mother behind. But he knew she would only scold him for rebelling against the system. Therefore, it was imperative that he left. For months, he and Jimin elaborated an escape — consistently backtracking and fixing any errors in their plan.

Unfortunately, plans don’t always go as planned and being just a couple of high school kids, Jungkook and Jimin hadn’t fully thought out the whole “where would we bunk” deal. But, all changed when they reached the rooftops. Although the first two years were literal Hell. Probably part of the reason Jungkook had become too exhausted at the end of it all. It was horrid to run non-stop, stability not being an option. Jungkook and Jimin had several quarrels with other runners. It became a cycle that Jungkook grew weary of:

Getting accepted into a hideout → Developing trust with other runners → Everything feels comfortable now → Someone does something to show their true colors (Runners are out to get each other, despite the consequences. Whether the reward is for money, power, or maybe even freedom) → Jungkook and Jimin realize they can’t trust other runners → In conclusion, they flee → The process repeats

That is, until they met Namjoon. At first, he resisted. He previously had one roommate before that betrayed him, just as other runners betrayed Jimin and Jungkook. He thinks of him sometimes, and he’ll never forget his name. Yoongi Min, who goes by Firebird. Blue lights offered Yoongi a deal: to persuade Namjoon into a trap, at a disclosed location, in return for clearing his own name of all criminal records — freedom. Yoongi had been Namjoon’s roommate for four years, eventually growing close and becoming trustworthy of one another. Even coining each other’s names together, as a team. He always thought he’d take over the city of Python with Yoongi. Thus, that’s why Namjoon took Jungkook and Jimin in; because he saw them as himself and Yoongi, knowing that he would have wanted someone else to do the same for him and his once good friend.

“Go.” And with that, Jungkook powers forward leading with one goal in mind: Fast.

“I want you to head straight as far as you can. Got it?”

“Copy,” Jungkook slips. He starts at a steady pace, sliding under pipes connected to cooling fan systems, and vaulting over fences being sure to avoid high voltage ones. However, his velocity decreases when doing so. Namjoon takes note of that.

“Try to keep a linear direction as much as possible. Jump to the next building, using the metal pipe as a pole.”

Jungkook makes an estimate on how fast he should run to land onto the pole that’s adjacent to the rooftop of the building he’s currently on. He backs away about two meters and plants his feet on the ground, getting into position. His body exerts force and within seconds, Jungkook leaps from the rooftop. His heart dropping to his stomach, silently praying that his calculations were correct; and within seconds he lands onto the metal pole, his toned biceps clinging on for life. The leather gloves he wears grant a better grip on the surface, as he pulls himself upward, finally reaching the rooftop.

“Good job, Falcon. Keep pushing!”

Jungkook heaves, but knows he can’t stop now. He continues to scan his surroundings, taking in the view of the city from his vantage point. The sun still beams within the distance. Glass buildings towering the city, camera drones and lightweight super-jets scattering the sky.

No time for distractions.

Jungkook continues on his path as instructed by Namjoon. Lightly jogging, he rapidly picks up his pace until he takes a quick glance to his right and something catches his eye: a security camera, hanging below a billboard on the current building he stands on. He treads forward, and notices a blue light on the camera that blinks rapidly. He sticks his middle finger up towards the object and makes a swift turn to walk away when suddenly he stops dead in his tracks.

You push open the door to the rooftop access, finally having reached the top of the corporate office building of Cobra Enterprises, the biggest conglomerate in the city. To your surprise, on your left, there stands a man with doe-like eyes and lengthy, coffee-colored strands concealing his face. Your mouth flew agape, realizing that this is your first encounter ever with a runner — his neon red gloves serving as evidence.

“Falcon, what’s going on? I’m picking up a blue light within your perimeter,” Namjoon keys in. Jungkook says nothing, simply eyeing your form. He’d never been in love, and it wasn’t as if he’d recognize love even if it were standing right in front of his face with a big sign that said: “Hey! It’s me. I am love.” It was your essence that gave him an odd feeling. A feeling that intrigued him for some strange reason. But then you flashed that shiny PPD badge, which glistened in the sun, and it caught his attention — instantly sending a wave of discouragement throughout his heart.

“I’m Detective ____ with PPD,” you slip.

“Abort the test run! Get the hell out of there!” Namjoon commands on the other end of Jungkook’s earpiece. You attempt to step closer to the man, but he raises his hand up.

“Don’t come any closer.”

You shake your head, “It’s okay. I-I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk, okay?” You reassure while gradually lifting your hands up in the air, as if surrendering to him. He scoffs, obviously not impressed by your coy tactic.

“A blue light wanting to talk? Nah, don’t think so,” he spits while clenching his fists and backing away.

“No, please! I-I-” You suddenly become tongue-tied, as the man evidently runs away out of your sight, leaving you behind. Frozen in place.

That asshole.

Your cell rings conveniently at the right moment.

— Hobi ❤️ [Incoming Call]

You swipe to answer, and can’t even get a “hello” out before Hoseok starts on his shit again.

“Goddammit, ____! I told you to call me when you got to your first location.” He sounds furious, as if you’re his pet on a leash.

“Okay, dad!” You retort, clearly annoyed with him in this moment as you make your way down the exhausting flight of stairs inside the building.

“You know what-” Hoseok runs his fingers through his waves. “My place. 30 minutes.” The sound of a click on the line indicates that he hung up, leaving you with a frustrated temper.

Jungkook storms into the hideout, snatching his mask off of his face. Namjoon rips his headset off, visibly pissed.

“You wanna tell me what the hell happened back there?”

Jungkook scoffs, currently not up for anyone’s shit, as he trails to the fridge to grab his carton of banana milk yet again. Namjoon rolls his eyes while shaking his head. Jungkook releases his lips from the carton and slips, “Nothing.”

The sound of Namjoon’s tongue clicking echoes through the space, “Bullshit! You know our code, and you did NOT follow!”

With his back, turned Jungkook takes a deep huff, cheeks on fire. Jimin silently creeps nearby and coyly chimes in,

“See a blue light, call it a night. Don’t take flight, and you’ll put up a fight.”

“That’s right, Phoenix. We do NOT stick around once a blue light is within our sight. We take flight. Is that understood?” Namjoon probes with a stern tone, directing towards Jungkook.

The youngest turns face forward, with a clenched jaw and jutted chest. He says nothing, clearly testing the eldest. Namjoon steps forward and closes the gap between one another, so close that their noses nearly touch.

“Is that understood?” He inquires, his voice a few octaves lower. Jungkook pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue before breaking.

“Copy.”

“Get your shit together, Falcon. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.” Namjoon pulls away and brushes past Jimin, heading out of the kitchen. Infuriated, Jungkook lunges the now empty carton toward the wall ahead of him and also brushes past Jimin, who grasps his wrist in time to halt him. A look of worry spreads across Jimin’s face.

“Come on, Kook. You know Thunderbird. He’s just trying to protect us. It’s like… his job.”

Jungkook stays silent, thinking if he would ever get to see your innocent face again. Jimin nudges his arm to grasp his attention.

“You do know that you can talk to me, right?” He reassures with a promising expression. Jungkook simply nods and walks away, leaving Jimin worried. He knows when something is wrong with his best friend. He can feel it. But he also knows that Jungkook is a tough cookie, and it will take time for him to finally crack.

Meanwhile, Jungkook locks himself in his room — having confined himself completely from the world even if it was just for a few hours. How could he be so stupid? Why couldn’t he just talk to you like you wanted? Maybe you were a good person. At least that’s what he assumed, considering your beautiful face.

No. Snap out of it!

He can’t trust anyone. It’s for his own good. As the sun sets, he peeks through the glass window in his room to soak in the view of the city. Streams of pink, yellow, and blue paint the evening sky. If only he’d introduced himself to you, maybe he would feel a slight less pain in his chest. It was something Jungkook craved that he’d never gotten yet.

Intimacy.

Hoseok is frustrated; he runs his fingers through his hair for what has felt like the millionth time today.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asks with a dark, lustful feel in his eyes. You gaze at him in complete silence.

“Can’t obey me anymore or what?” He lets out a frustrated sigh while gripping your hips.

“Oh you’re asking for it, huh?” He coos while mustering up the idea to tickle his way into getting a response from you. You break the silence, the sound of your laughter filling up his penthouse. Giggles and gasps for breaths emit from you, a sound that Hoseok thinks he could hear for the rest of his life and never grow tired.

“Oh my-! S-stop!”

And like a light-switch, he abruptly stops. His hands falling down to your sides, gripping your hips again. He gazes into your stare for what feels like an eternity. That familiar beauty mark on his lip is your favorite sight. He notes your eyes landing on his lips for too long, and he takes the opportunity to inch forward and meet yours.

He tastes like coffee — the kind you have in the morning before heading out to the station. The kind you’re used to sipping while reading emails at work or making phone calls. Or even the kind you order from your favorite coffee shop where you first met him and continue to meet up with him there to discuss anything work related.

Your lips soften against his, as his softens against yours. You’re not even sure how that is possible. Physics? Maybe.

However, the thought of your relationship with Hoseok crosses your mind. And before you could even think twice about what to do, with his tongue literally down your throat, you unexpectedly shove him lightly. His eyebrows furrow in response, concerned if he’d done something wrong (when he could swear you like french kissing, considering you both do it all the time, and he remembered you mentioned one moment how much you like to do so).

“What are we? What is this?” You blurt out. Hoseok’s expression makes you instantly regret asking him. He pulls himself away from you completely to pace back and forth with his hand on his hip, shaking his head. Your gaze drops to the floor, feeling like such shit for bringing it up. But you’d be damned if he made you feel bad, because you have to know. For your own sake. Your own sanity.

“Are we really doing this right now?” He asks while sitting down on the leather loveseat.

That’s it. Something in you snaps.

“Hoseok!” You screech, gaining a wide-eyed stare from him.

“We’ve been fucking for over 2 years! What did you think? That I was just going to keep floating around, letting you stuff me every fucking week and not say anything about it?”

You are a panting, hot, and frustrated mess on the verge of tears from how upset you are. Hoseok watches your riled up figure, and he can’t seem to bring words together. He’s had a long day and wants nothing more than to release his stress into you either on his bed, or this loveseat, or maybe the kitchen counter if you can’t make it to his bedroom. But your emotions are clouding the atmosphere, and it’s something he can’t handle.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” he states dryly.

You felt like someone just hammered a nail into your heart. Your mouth flies agape, sucking in a breath to contain yourself from crying in front of his eyes.

“Why can’t we just fuck and not go through all of this? What do we need a label for anyway? It’s not like anyone at the station is going to find out.” He shrugs, emitting a chuckle paired with a nonchalant vibe.

Drip.

And then a tear fell down your cheek, prompting yourself to march out the front door and never look back. Clutching your crossbody, your leather chelsea boots click against the hardwood floor. Before Hoseok had the chance to grab you by the wrist, you were gone. You continued strutting down the hall, better yet lightly jogging to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. Your fingers find placement on the ↓ button for the elevator.

Ding.

The moment the elevator doors shut is when the tears came streaming down your cheeks, like a waterfall. You knew all along it was a bad idea to get involved with Hoseok. You’re sentimental and have always been so. “Catching feelings” while having weekly sex with him was bound to happen eventually. All in all, you could say that you saw the end coming, but at least 70% of you wanted things to be different than what they were. As your mother would call it, “living in la la land.” For the remainder of the night, you comfort yourself on your couch, stuffing your face with leftover chocolate-covered strawberries and sipping champagne. All while venting on the phone to your childhood friend and updating him on the current situation with Hoseok.

“Ah. I’m sorry, noona. Hobi is a real ass sometimes, you know?”

You take another sip from your wine glass, “Ugh. That’s the thing!” You pause, popping a strawberry in your mouth, “I knew it. And yet, I still fell for him. I’m just horrible, a mess.”

“Don’t say that,” he replies with a yawn following his response.

“It’s true, Yoongi! I’ve literally been letting him in this whole time and not standing my ground. It’s so pathetic of me,” You sigh with a frown upon your face that Yoongi obviously cannot see.

“Wow. He was that good, huh?” You roll your eyes just thinking about it, “Ugh, yes! Don’t even remind me!”

“Well-” yet another yawn cutting him off again, “Just take your time, you know? I’m sure it won’t be that easy to get over him. But eventually, it’ll happen.” Your eyes begin to tear up again, “You really think so?”

Yoongi hesitates for a brief moment, “No, I’m just trying to get you off the phone so I can go to sleep.”

“Fuck you, Yoongi Min.” His cute giggle lifts your mood in a contagious way — making you laugh out loud along with him.

“You’ll be fine, ____. Really.” A tear finally drops down your face. This is why you love Yoongi, and why you’d been friends with him almost your entire life. He’s someone you can trust, always having been there for you. It didn’t matter the distance you were from each other, or how long it had been since you contacted one another, you both would pick up right where you left off.

“Goodnight, Yoongs. Love you.” His gummy smile appears as he replies, “Love you too, ____. Goodnight.”

After hanging up with Yoongi and having your belly full enough of strawberries and wine, your thoughts continuously play over the events of today, making you realize how drained you are. Then the image of the runner from earlier crosses your mind. God, was he the hottest man you’ve seen in awhile, at least from what you could see due to his mask covering most of his face. But his lengthy strands paired with his toned biceps and tall, lean figure are what got you. The sun bounced perfectly on his tanned, body, displaying a gorgeous shimmer of sweat he was drenched in, kind of reminded you of your fave Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts.

His eyes were bright and beautiful, and you’ll never forget the way he was startled when you approached him — like a deer in headlights. You wonder what else was “hot” about him that you didn’t get a chance to see. Okay, maybe it’s just the wine talking. Some part of you wished you could have at least asked what his name was, but he wasted no time in evading you. Even though you felt a slight sting in your heart, you couldn’t blame him for leaving. After all, you’re a cop and he’s a runner. Of course he’d “run” from you.

Hoseok is sound asleep until an alarming tone from his cell phone startles him from his slumber.

— Yoongi Hyung [Incoming Call]

“Shit.” Hoseok lets out a frustrated sigh before answering. His tired, raspy voice is heard from the other side of the line. “Hyung, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know you tell me.” Yoongi deadpans.

Hoseok sighs in response. Pulling away from his phone to read the time: 12:42 AM. He clenches his fist and runs his fingers through his messy mane.

“What do you want, Yoongi?”

“I need you to look into someone for me. Get ____ on the case,” Yoongi demands with a slight hint of desperation.

Seething, Hoseok retorts, “Fucking hell. Why couldn’t you wait until the morning to tell me?”

“It is morning, and before you step into the station I need to make sure it’s the first thing on your agenda. I need this done asap.”

Hoseok remains his composure on the outside but is internally screaming.

“I don’t know, Hyung. I can’t guarantee it. I have ____ on the Jungkook Jeon case, and I may have her finally close it. Hopefully-” Yoongi scoffs, on the other side, clearly not happy.

Hoseok adds, “What’s this all about anyway? And what do I get for it?”

“Did you forget who’s the eldest here?” A moment of silence falls into the phone.

“Didn’t think so,” Yoongi continues. Hoseok feels small. He always does when being confronted by Yoongi.

“I’ve cut a deal with Cobra Enterprises. The company will have a meeting tomorrow with PPD about a new project to take place. I want you to look into a guy. I’m sure you remember him. Namjoon Kim.” The youngest sighs yet again. He remembered Namjoon from his rookie days, and he also recalled Yoongi had failed to go through with the set-up.

“Press ____ to look into his file and continue there. Drop her from the Jungkook Jeon case.” Hoseok’s mouth flies open in shock at Yoongi’s request.

“Are you fucking kidding me? How the hell am I supposed to-”

“Do not try me! Now, you’ll do as I say without giving me any shit, understand?” Yoongi retorts, his voice now at a higher volume than before. His deep violet-haired, skinny stature dressed in a purple v-neck, paired with a black leather jacket and leather jeans. He paces back and forth, flipping a pen between his slender fingers. The visible ink of his black, circuit board tattoo trails from his neck down to his right shoulder and ends at his wrist.

“Yes, Hyung,” Hoseok states, his voice barely above a whisper now.

“Get her on the case for Namjoon and find out where he is! Tell her he goes by the name Thunderbird. These rooftops are massive. Viper and I cannot find him alone. Having her would help tremendously. Besides… she’s smart, and I’m sure she’d be able to get to him before I do,” he continues while staring at the view of the city from his hideout.

Hoseok lets out with a tinge of annoyance in his reply, “Fine, fine. Alright!”

“Don’t do this, and I will tell ____ about our little secret. I’m sure she wouldn’t be too happy about that either. Especially not now.”

“You better not say shit to her, you hear me?” Hoseok works up.

“Get the job done, Hobi.” Yoongi ends the call.

No, you could not find out. At least not like that. Hoseok doesn’t want you to know about the little fling with his hyung. He knows Yoongi would do anything to destroy the side thing Hoseok has with you, since he’s jealous. He wants Hoseok all to himself.

The ringing of your cell frightens you out of your sleep. Your eyes land onto your clock placed beside you on your nightstand. You silently curse whoever dares to awaken you at this ungodly hour of 3:18 AM. Surely it was none other than Hoseok Jung. You dared to not answer, but part of you needed to if you wanted to keep your job. You were slightly worried his calling may be job-related anyway. At least you hope it is, because you can’t think about how he’d hurt you the previous day. Your exhausted form answers the call with a swipe.

“Hello?”

“I’m here.” Your eyebrows furrow as you scan your bedroom in the moonlight. Your right hand finds it’s way to rub your eyes.

“What?”

“Just open the door. I’m here.”

You stay on the line, and groggily drag yourself out of bed to head beeline for the front door of your apartment. Through the peephole, there stands Hoseok with his iPhone to his ear and his head hanging low. You unlock the door and tiredly pull it open to finally meet eyes with the bastard. Yesterday’s events flash through your memory, and you’re drawn back into the mood you were in before you knocked out for what seemed like only ten minutes.

With furrowed brows you question, “Hoseok what do y-”

His lips crash with yours, cutting you off completely. Your hand that once held your phone, now wraps around his neck, easing him closer to you. His firm hands now grip your hips, flushing you to his body entirely. His plushy lips play with yours, naturally gliding and smoothing against their own accord. The bitter taste of coffee lingers on his lips, to what you assumed he more than likely had a cup of Joe before arriving to your apartment. He breaks the kiss to stare into your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you,” he pauses for a beat, “It was wrong. I was wrong.”

A low sigh escapes your lips. Hoseok cups your cheeks, and gives you a small peck. You pull away to take hold of his hand and lead him into your apartment, closing the door behind the two of you. You find yourself sitting on the side of your bed, with Hoseok joining you. He rests his cool palm on your warm, exposed thigh, courtesy of your pajama shorts. Your fingers find placement on top of his hand. He stares into your gaze, guilt settling deep within his gut. Part of the reason he’d always treated you like nothing is due to his feelings for Yoongi. He likes this thing with you: being able to have you whenever he wants, do whatever he wants to you, and treat you how he wants.

It’s almost like he owns you, except he doesn’t. But he likes the complacency of the situation, knowing that you’ll always be there when he needs you. Yet he knows it’s selfish and such a narcissistic quality about himself, but he wants what he wants and cannot stop his actions. It’s this never-ending dilemma he’s stuck in of leading you on or admitting his feelings for you. Because all in all, Hoseok wants to “have his cake and eat it too.” On the other hand, Yoongi stands on the sidelines — waiting for the day he & Hoseok could be together. And now it’s worse since you’ve poured your feelings out to him. Although for Yoongi, it’s everything he’s ever wished for.

The luminance from the moonlight glows throughout the space that’s your room. Hoseok shivers slightly from your touch, the warmth of your fingers encases his cold, slender ones. You both sit in silence for a moment, just taking in each others presence. You attempt to gather your own thoughts of why Hoseok couldn’t wait to apologize until the next day you both work.

“Hoseok.” You let out, a yawn following afterwards.

“Hm?” He responds while glancing into your eyes with those gorgeous brown eyes, his strands gracefully dressing his forehead in that familiar middle-part style.

“Cuddle?” You ask sheepishly why reaching your arms out towards him, offering your warmest embrace. His lips curl up into that stunning smile, making his eyes shut instinctively. He removes his bomber jacket and shoes, then climbs into the opposite side of your bed. You follow suit and pull your duvet over the two of you. Your arms naturally wrap around his abdomen, and you curl up into his chest. Admiring the familiar scent of Hoseok’s fresh, linen garments with a hint of some expensive cologne. He smells so clean, as a man should. It sends you into a trance. Your ear rests on top of his chest, growing familiar with the rhythm of his heartbeat. And it’s just enough to put you to rest.

—

The sun peaks from the skyline, beginning its journey to rise. Deep orange and yellow hues paint the sky. A gleaming ray of light shoots throughout the hideout the three men share together. Namjoon is the first to awaken, his beach-sand colored hair ruffled in a slight mess. With a bare upper body and boxer briefs, he slips from his mattress on the ground to head for the washroom — his disheveled state still working to fully awaken. After finishing up his morning routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and grooming his hair, he slips on black nylon sweatpants and a red fitted tank, displaying his black, circuit board ink on his left forearm snaking up to his left shoulder and neck. He stares at his own figure in the mirror, silently hating himself for letting Yoongi talk him into getting a matching tattoo.

If only he’d knew where Yoongi’s loyalty really lied, he’d never would have given in to him. A slight pang in Namjoon’s chest resurfaces. He missed Yoongi, a lot more than he wanted to. Because it was more than “friendship” with him. He loved Yoongi and wanted to confess his feelings for him, but he was afraid his confession would lead to corruption of their friendship. He was also afraid of Yoongi’s “distant” personality. He was for sure it would have ruined them, even if their friendship blossomed into something more. Unfortunately, after Yoongi became a traitor in Namjoon’s eyes, he couldn’t stop the feelings he had for him and continues to have. It was ever since that one night they’d both had a little too much soju that things led from one thing to another. He relishes in the memory of Yoongi’s lips pressed against his.

The lingering, sweet taste of alcohol on his lips is the fondest moment Namjoon has of Yoongi. He had never been more aroused by anyone else ever, and Yoongi had just that effect on him. One thing led to another, and before he could process what had happened, the next morning he’d awaken to the sight of Yoongi naked and wrapped around his chest. Ever since, the entire dynamic of their friendship had changed. Yoongi hadn’t spoken of the previous night, and neither had Namjoon. He’d never thought that a week later, he would have had no other choice but to kick out the one person he had grown to trust for so long. He never forgets the look in Yoongi’s eyes. Puffy, red, and swollen from the tears he’d cried.

Namjoon had never seen him this shaken up before, considering his inability to show his feelings. But he believed Yoongi had done all of this to silently punish him for sleeping with him. Liquid forms in Namjoon’s eyes as his mind goes in circles consistently, playing the events over and over in his mind — reminiscing on the presence of who he thought would have eventually been his lover. While brewing a cup of coffee, Namjoon readies himself for the day. Upon arrival to the coms room, he seats himself at his desk, an arrange of five monitors on display. The longer one in the middle is the portal to log into Thunder, a tracking software he’d created, with Yoongi, that’s designed specifically to pinpoint a runners’ location. Of course, he had re-programmed said software to track Jungkook and Jimin’s location whenever they’d go out on a run, which is why they use an earpiece that has a tracker installed.

For safety purposes, he’d also designed it to detect when other runners are nearby while also detecting blue lights in the surrounding area. Each runner is part of a team that is represented by a color on the “rainbow spectrum,” and each color has a leader. Namjoon being the leader of Red, and along with Jimin and Jungkook representing the color. Although, the only colors from the spectrum that have been confirmed are: Orange, Yellow, and Green — while Blue and Violet have yet to be discovered. In the meantime, Jimin tosses in his sleep as though he’s experiencing a nightmare. Something within his slumber startling enough to jerk him awake, his eyes blown wide and his lips parted dramatically. His chest rising up and down as he trails his fingers through his onyx strands that fall back onto his forehead. His arms find their way up to block the sunlight from his window that forces to blind his eyes.

His body is warm, and after sitting up completely, he realizes his white tank is soaked in perspiration. Jimin snarks at the cold sweat clinging to his upper body. Rolling out of bed, the cool tile below him makes his body shiver. He pulls his top over his head and off, flinging it to the corner of his room. His toned upper body glistens with sweat, covered with the tattoo “Nevermind” on the left side of his abdomen. Jimin rushes to the washroom to start up the glass shower.

He hops in immediately; cool streams of water race down his fit figure, drenching his black strands and gradually decreasing his body temperature. He runs his index finger across the inside of his wrist where another tattoo is displayed: 13. A small grin crosses his face, thinking of the time he’d met Jungkook when he was 13, how they’d instantly bonded, and how far they’ve come in their lives. The number also resembling the day of his own birth. But Jimin’s smile fades, after realizing the dream he had. He knew something was wrong, because for weeks now he’d been having these nightmares that something bad would happen; everything would change, yet he wasn’t 100% sure how. Even though things were okay now, but he couldn’t help the thought that maybe his gut instinct was trying to warn him.

Knock x2.

Jimin jumps slightly at the sudden knock, and his gaze snaps up to the bathroom door, “Dude… Gotta pee,” Jungkook’s tired form slips. Outside the door, he can barely keep his eyes open — having almost pulled an all-nighter, listening to music and lifting weights in his room. Jimin swings the door open, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Scared the shit out of me, you know?” Namjoon arrives in the hallway.

“Morning, boys! We’ve got a long day ahead of us. So, get some breakfast and meet me in the coms room when you’re done.” Jimin nods and adds coyly, “Ay ay, captain!” Jungkook groans in response. On the other side of the city, the smell of eggs and bacon sizzling in a pan acts as a cue for Hoseok’s awakening. His arms stretch out, releasing the tension that’s settled in them. He checks his phone for the time only to find missed calls and texts, from none other than his hyung.

— Yoongi Hyung [5:02 AM] just wait till u come home. u will fucking get it!!!

— Yoongi Hyung [4:59 AM] are u fucking kidding me… i come here for dick and this is what i get? where tf are u???

— Yoongi Hyung [4:57 AM] whatever. coming in with the spare key u gave me.

— Yoongi Hyung [4:56 AM] u ass. i’ve rung the doorbell a thousand times already. are u that asleep?

— Yoongi Hyung [4:54 AM] Missed Call (x2)

Shit.

“Good morning sleepy head!” Hoseok jumps slightly at your cheeky greeting of you standing at the doorway of your room.

“I made breakfast if you’re hungry. I’ll be heading out in a few to follow up on any leads I can get with the Jungkook Jeon case.” Hoseok takes a huge gulp before spilling, “Yeah… About that.” He drags, while slipping out of bed. His hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer.

“I uh-” He pauses for a moment, remembering the threat Yoongi had given him. You stand there, all eyes on him, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m dropping you from the Jungkook Jeon case,” he states rapidly. Your eyebrows furrow, “Why would you do that?” Hoseok sighs, thinking of anything off the top of his head to lie.

“Just- Leave it to me. I did some digging when you left the station yesterday,” He continues while slipping his shoes on.

“I want you to look into something else,” You nod for him continue.

“Namjoon Kim. Known as Thunderbird. He’s got a record, but he’s also been reported as missing just like Jungkook.” Hoseok breaks away from your gaze for a moment, internally hating himself for doing this to you. He knows he’s no good for you.

“Do you still have that list of coordinates I gave you?” He inquires, while simultaneously looking up at you and tying his shoes.

“Mmmhmm,” you simply mutter, watching his form in silence. It is clear that he’s about to leave but you waited for him to say so. Hoseok grabs his jacket and notices you’re still standing in the doorway. He pauses to slip, “I should get going. I have some errands to run-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, the tone in your voice clearly revealing that no it is not “fine.” You’re slightly upset really, but part of you expected Hoseok to not stay around since you’re convinced that the only reason he’d came to apologize to you was to clear his conscious. And because, well, he was alone and wanted some form of companionship. Typical, right? Another part of you cringed at the thought you assumed he’d treat you as if you’re both together, even though you’re not. So, it isn’t abnormal for him to just leave. It’s not like he’s committed to you. Except your heart tells you it’s just not fair. Hoseok doesn’t miss the look of disarray that spreads across your face, due to his departure. He looks to you before leaving your apartment.

“Maybe I can come by later?” You internally cringe at his request whilst trying to not get your hopes up.

“It’s not a big deal, only if you can! Don’t go out of your way for me. Besides, I’m sure you’re busy.” He hesitates for a brief moment, then awkwardly nods as if slowly trying to process what you said. A feeling deep inside tells him that you know he’s full of shit. Maybe it’s his guilty conscious, but that makes him feel even worse for leaving you on his off day, just to be with Yoongi. The instant you shut the door behind Hoseok, your heart broke. You want to regret getting into this thing with him, but you know it was something you wanted at one point.

Jungkook attired himself in his usual pieces. Black ink tattoos of an “X” covers just below both of his elbows. His signature three, silver hoops dangle within both of his ears, as he deliberately munches on a protein bar, while standing in the coms room.

“I specifically asked you both to come once you were DONE with breakfast,” Namjoon retorts indirectly towards Jungkook, who is undoubtedly dropping crumbs on the ground.

“Hey, don’t look at me.” Jimin throws his hands up and shakes his head as if to surrender, his jet-black strands swaying about in front of his eyes.

“As I was saying…” Namjoon continues, “I have different tasks for you both.” Jungkook’s eyes stay glued on the eldest. Jimin’s toned arms are crossed, tilting his head to the side.

“Phoenix,” Namjoon tosses a wireless earpiece to Jimin. “I want you to head over to the docks. I’ve been picking up high blue light activity lately in that area.” Namjoon gropes his chin, as if in deep thought. “Check it out and see if there’s anything you could find that’ll tell us why they’ve been so trigger happy lately.”

Jungkook abruptly stops chewing and tunes out after hearing Namjoon’s request. That is why he felt different about you. You didn’t hurt him like most blue lights would hurt runners if they’d ever been caught. That’s the difference.

“Falcon!”

The slight ringing in Jungkook’s ears immensely fades away after he realizes Namjoon is talking to him. His eyebrows rise up, as if silently asking him What? Namjoon removes a black messenger bag he has around himself and tosses it to Jungkook, who almost didn’t catch it due to the crumpled granola wrapper still in his hand and Namjoon’s sudden reflexes.

“Since your little encounter” Namjoon makes the quotation marks gesture with his fingers. “I’m sending you on a fast cash mission. You know the rules.”

Namjoon quirks his eyebrows, as if to emphasize his point. “I’ll be guiding you, but keep your eyes peeled. Your name isn’t Falcon for nothing.” Jungkook shrugs at the audacity.

“When you reach the location, there will be a runner by the name of Viper waiting there for you. Give him the bag, and safely return back to the hideout without being detected by any blue lights.”

“Copy that.”

Namjoon nods in response, “Oh. Before I forget.” Namjoon reaches toward his glass desk to pull out a black, wireless earpiece.

“I know you’ve been borrowing Jimin’s earpiece since yours broke. So, I made a new one.” Namjoon extends his hand out to Jungkook then snaps away.

“Try not to break it this time, huh? Materials are kind of… limited.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow and obtains the piece to delicately place in his ear. He places the bag over his head and lets the strap rest on his shoulder, adjusting it to his liking — making sure it’s tight around his torso. Jimin follows and pushes his earpiece in.

Namjoon makes an overly-dramatic clap noise with his hands. “Alright, boys. Let’s get to work!” On their way from the hideout, Jimin stops Jungkook before they proceed to go on their separate ways.

“Hey,” Jimin spills, his eyes now crescent, moon-shaped due to the sizzling sun displayed brightly in the sky. Jungkook replies, “Yeah?”

“Just, uh…” Jimin lingers on for a moment, observing the ambience as if he’s searching for something. His eyes land back on the youngest, admiring how innocent he is. Jimin loved Jungkook as his own brother, and he’d do anything to protect him. He’s convinced he’d do more than Namjoon.

“Be careful. Okay?” A tinge of worry oozes from Jimin’s command. He wishes he could just tell Jungkook the dreams he’d been having lately, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to upset him, yet he knows he’d have to tell him sooner or later. Because recurring nightmares that Jimin has are always to some extent: true. It’s been that way for as long as he could remember. The first time he’d experienced it was when he was seven years old. He dreamt the same dream during that time, that his father was caught in a rainstorm and passed away due to a car collision.

The first night he experienced the nightmare, he was afraid; and although he’d warn his parents, all else failed. They thought it was just another bad dream that would pass. A few weeks later, his father passed away due to a DUI car accident. Jimin was devastated, and although he was right all along, he hated when the same dreams occurred because he knew eventually it would no longer be a nightmare — instead a reality.

“Always,” Jungkook answers, while turning around to jog in the opposite direction. Completely unaware of Jimin who’s still left behind and laying eyes on him. An ounce of worry overtakes him, that he misses Namjoon’s calling of his name.

“Phoenix, do you copy?” Jimin snaps back from his daydream,

“Y-yeah. I mean- Copy that. I’m here.” Namjoon keeps track of Jungkook’s location and notices Jimin’s stillness.

“Alright, let’s head west and take it from there. It’s a straight shot.” Jimin starts his run, climbing over fences, sliding under pipes, and running on walls. Namjoon uses the digital map to pinpoint the intended location.

“Looks like the docks will be on the west side of the Cobra Enterprises building.

“Copy that.” Namjoon takes a sip of his now lukewarm, medium, roast coffee.

“Switching to channel two, be right back.” Jungkook sits on the edge of a building, looking below his feet where the grand city of Python seems so tiny. Pedestrians look like ants from his perspective. Moving vehicles give the appearance of toy cars kids play with. The sound of a deep voice keys into Jungkook’s earpiece.

“Thunderbird for Falcon.” Jungkook swings his feet playfully, enjoying the summer weather, “Go for Falcon.”

“You’ll be heading east to The Echidna. Viper will be there waiting for you. Deliver the package to him, and make it back safely. Remember, no blue lights.”

Hoseok turns the key to open the door of his apartment. The sound of the front door closing startles a naked Yoongi, who steps foot into Hoseok’s room with a towel wrapped around him. His soaked, purple strands dripping with water. Hoseok shuffles his jacket and shoes off, yet notices the penthouse is filled with silence. He’d hoped Yoongi had just given up for now and left, but he knew him. He wasn’t going to leave until he got what he wanted.

His fingers glide through his own soft waves, and he treads upstairs to his room. His heart suddenly pumps faster when his eyes land on the back side of Yoongi, who has removed his towel to dry his hair. His pale, porcelain skin glowing and glistening with water and sunshine. Hoseok takes a thick gulp and clears his throat. Yoongi finds Hoseok behind him and gives his signature smirk, “Good morning.” Yoongi drops his towel on the ground and gestures a “come here” motion with his finger, and Hoseok follows.

“Missed me? I know I missed you,” Yoongi caresses Hoseok’s cheek, gazing into his brown irises, his bed-hair adding a nice final touch.

“I’m sorry, I-” Hoseok is cut off by Yoongi’s index finger placed on his lips. He commands, “Just shut up and fucking kiss me already. You owe me. Big time.” Hoseok chuckles before leaning in to wrap his arms around Yoongi, placing his hands along his back, pulling Yoongi flush to his body.

Before heading out to investigate the supposed “Namjoon Kim” case Hoseok urged you earlier to begin, you chose to pay a visit to your favorite chocolatier in the mall, the one that sells your favorite chocolate-covered strawberries. The fresh, cool breeze of the air conditioner blows through your hair as you strut through the front entrance of The Echidna. The chocolate shop wasn’t far from the main entrance, on the entry level so you decided to take your time, casually strolling through the mall. The smell of pretzels, pizza, and other delicious foods filled your senses as you passed by the food court. After a minute more of walking, you reach the shop and realize they are running a promotion: Buy one dozen of chocolate-covered strawberries, get another half off.

Just in time.

On the rooftops, Jungkook blasts over buildings and latches onto pipes, ladders, and other obstacles that help him navigate throughout the environment.

“Thunderbird for Phoenix.” Jimin keys back into Namjoon while taking a break from running.

“Go for Phoenix.” Namjoon tracks Jimin’s location, and notes how far he is from the intended location.

“Good job. You’re on the right path. You should be able to see the front side of the Cobra Enterprises building from where you are.” Jimin scans his surroundings on the east side, and notes the building with a golden, cobra snake symbol. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Good. Continue your normal path and you’ll notice the building will then be on the east side of you.” Jimin nods in approval, “Copy that.”

Yoongi and Hoseok lie in bed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace. Hoseok rests on Yoongi’s chest, drawing circles on his chest with Yoongi’s fingers laced in his strands.

“So,” Yoongi breaks the silence. “So?” Hoseok questions, admiring the soft supple skin under his fingertips.

“Gonna tell me where you were last night?” Just as Hoseok gathered up the courage to respond, Yoongi cuts him off.

“No, wait! Let me guess. With ____,” he states with a dry tone. A tinge of jealousy behind his words. Hoseok turns his head around, facing Yoongi.

“Are we really doing this again?” Yoongi rolls his eyes, pushing Hoseok off of his chest. Hoseok’s eyebrows naturally crease in response.

“Yoongi, seriously?” The eldest says nothing, his back now turned to the youngest, having flipped over on his side.

“What fucking more do you want?!” Hoseok runs his fingers through his hair, his strands falling back onto his forehead. Yoongi keys in on him, with a furious gaze. “Us!” He exclaims, sitting up and easing his way out of bed to slip on his jeans.

“I fucking want us,” He continues, more-so demanding rather than stating. Hoseok takes a deep breath. “You know that I’m working on that-”

Yoongi seethes. “Yeah, and for how long?!” His voice raising with fists clenched on his jeans, zipping them up. “Don’t you fucking get it?” He adds, slipping on his signature, purple v-neck.

“____ is in love with you. How do you just “work on that?” He emphasizes with air quotation marks. Hoseok struggles to answer, leaving his lips parted slightly. A moment of silence falls between the two. Yoongi takes this as a cue of defeat — slipping on his leather jacket.

“Exactly.” He exits the bedroom, leaving Hoseok to ponder in his thoughts, while left in bed naked, regret filling him completely.

Yoongi saunters downstairs and slips on his boots, departing from Hoseok’s loft. He runs his fingers through his hair, while marching down the hallway of the complex. His mind continues to race many miles per hour. His finger presses the button to signal the elevator, and to his surprise, the doors open quicker than he’d expected. He takes a deep breath while stepping in and recounting the moment he’d had with Hoseok.

He hates himself for getting caught up in this situation with him, and now with you involved made matters worse. His heart aches at the thought of what things would be like if he hadn’t traded Namjoon out. Yoongi misses him, but he knows he’d never accept him for who he is and he wouldn’t ever forgive him for what he’d done. A pang in his chest approaches, knowing that he and Namjoon’s future was now long gone, and merely nothing but a dream now. It hurts, and he’s hurt. Which is why he’d pressed Hoseok to get you to look into his case in the first place. He needed this. Needed closure. He misses Namjoon, and there isn’t a day that passes when he doesn’t think of him. He needs him.

You’d chosen the dozen of half milk-chocolate strawberries and half white-chocolate covered strawberries. For both sets. The cashier carefully hands you the paper bag, with two gorgeous arrangements of twelve strawberries in each box. You gracefully exit the chocolatier with the brightest smile on your face, strutting toward the entrance of The Echidna to make your departure from the mall. Jungkook awaits on the rooftops, peering at his surroundings to ensure no one is in sight. And by no one, he specifically means blue lights. His tired being squats down, seating himself on the ground, nearby one of many dome-shaped, skylights that sit behind him. The sun toasting his skin causes him to wipe away the perspiration from his forehead, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Namjoon scans the time on the Thunder portal, noting that the runner should have arrived by now.

“Viper should be within your perimeter. Do you see him?” Jungkook scans his peripheral, but there is no sight of said runner. “No, he’s not here.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, as he doesn’t see any hint of a runner nearby the mall. The only indicator visible is Jungkook’s location. A red, blinking dot on the map.

“Something’s not right,” He says to himself, shaking his head.

Jungkook feels a presence behind him and just before he could turn around to say something, a deep, baritone voice speaks out.

“Thanks for meeting me here, this was a great spot.” But when Jungkook’s eyes landed on the tall, slender form, his mouth flew agape.

Violet. One of the colors on the spectrum that hadn’t been discovered yet.

There was no way, he thought. No way it was possible. And then the eldest spoke again, realizing Jungkook’s expression.

“Hey. Red, huh? Wait-” He pauses, Jungkook clenches the bag’s strap tightly. “That’s the color where- What’s that leaders name?” His finger taps his chin as if thinking. “It’s right at the tip of my tongue… Sounds like a month?”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. How did he know Thunderbird’s real name?

“How do you know his name?” Kook questions, gripping onto the bag tighter.

“It’s Joon, right? Namjoon! There it is.” Namjoon keys in to double-check on the youngest.

“Falcon, has he arrived yet? I’m still not able to see him.” Namjoon grows hesitant from not receiving a response.

Jungkook abruptly throws the bag at the man standing in front of him and darts in the opposite direction. Viper sprints behind him and tackles the youngest down onto one of the skylights, their figures thumping and sliding against the glass. Viper bangs Jungkook’s head into the glass. Jungkook throws a harsh punch straight to Viper’s nose and tackles him down, his body now caging him in.

“Who the hell are you?!” Jungkook seethes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Viper grins with a mischievous expression. Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at his coy remark. His hands grip around his neck, applying pressure with much force.

“Falcon?” Namjoon keys in yet again. Growing suspicious, he continues to scan the area and notes a blinking, blue light that appears to be moving. His assumption is that whoever it is may be inside the mall. “Fuck.”

A tinge of venom seeps from Viper’s words, “Tell that leader of yours, that Firebird is looking for him-” He chokes, Jungkook applying more pressure.

“He better- get ready.. for him too.” He adds with a menacing laugh. Jungkook releases his neck and throws another punch to his face, his knuckles aching as a result. Viper continues to laugh, and manhandles Jungkook. His back falls back onto the delicate material below them. He drives his foot against the side of Jungkook’s abdomen repeatedly.

“Ahhh, fuck!” Jungkook groans, his fists clenching from the pain.

Jungkook forces a kick straight to Viper’s face, grazing his nose with his shoe, causing drips of blood to spill. Jungkook clenches his teeth and tackles Viper down again, and then suddenly.

Crack.

The two men gaze down below them, and witness cracks scattering along the glass of the skylight.

“Shit,” Jungkook slips.

“Falcon!” Namjoon yells into his earpiece.

Viper watches Jungkook’s expression with wide eyes, his lips parting in shock. Jungkook slowly stands on his two feet, removing himself from on top of the eldest and attempts to escape, but with the added weight of being on his feet, the glass shatters into pieces, Viper’s form falls through the skylight, en route to the interior of the mall. Jungkook trips, losing his grip on the edge, his veins popping out as he forces his body back up onto the rooftop.

You fumble in the pockets of your leather jacket to obtain your car keys. Until the sudden sound of shattering glass startles you and out of the blue, an intense cracking, thud-like sound follows by a body falling splat onto the ground level of the mall. The contents in your hands drop in response, and the only melody filling your ears is the screams throughout the entire atmosphere, civilians pushing their way to the nearest exit. A thumping beat resides in your chest, and it’s as if your heart pounds so loud you that the noise suffocates your hearing above everything else. Your mouth falls open, and your instincts tell you to examine from above, where the body initially came from. And then your eyes meet a familiar face; to say you were shocked was an understatement.

There he was. Again. The man you’d seen yesterday. You knew it was him because you remember those eyes, his hair, and that black mask. After locking eyes with you, he immediately vanishes. You glare at the body that lies on the ground, slowly inching toward the male. With shaky hands, you kneel down to feel his pulse under his neck and there’s nothing.

Jungkook charges off the rooftops of The Echidna, adrenaline pumping through his veins like never before. The last thing he needed was for blue lights on his tail. And he saw you. He fucked up again. You saw him, and now there’s nothing he can do to un-do what happened. The sound of Namjoon’s voice resonates within Jungkook’s earpiece. “Falcon! What the hell happened? Did you deliver the package?” Jungkook says nothing, instead, he runs.

Namjoon sighs in frustration.

“I’m here,” Jimin keys in. Namjoon locates Jimin’s location.

“Fuck,” Namjoon replies.

Jimin asks with a hint of confusion, “Did I do something wrong?” Namjoon sighs.

“No, Phoenix. You’ve made it to the destination. I haven’t heard from Jungkook since he arrived at The Echidna, and he isn’t responding.” Jimin’s eyes widen. Oh no, had something happened to him? What if… the dream?

“Wait what? Do you need me to head over there?” Namjoon shakes his head, as if he could see him.

“No! Stay where you are. Just find out what you can find, and I’ll be here. I’ll handle it. Over and out.”

Jimin’s heart drops. He hoped Jungkook was okay, for his own sake. He couldn’t lose another person close to his heart.

Namjoon locates Jungkook’s location, and he’s storming like a lightning bolt. He removes his headset to meet with the youngest. Jungkook pants, his chest rising and falling.

“Falcon, what the hell? How many times do I-” Namjoon is cut off by the expression on Jungkook’s face. He stops in his tracks and notices his mask is already off, with tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His hands are shaking, and his heart is beating rapidly.

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook begins rambling, “I-I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck just happened!” Tears stream down his cheeks, he feels like he’s on fire, his chest continues to gasp for air. He feels like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“I-It all j-just happened s-so fast, I don’t know what to do.” Namjoon notes his trembling hands; he’d never seen him so worked up before.

“He- he came. And then I saw his purple shirt a-and I panicked, I didn’t know what the fuck to do! I-” Jungkook sobs with an aching pain on his side. “I didn’t know what to do!”

“Okay, Kook just calm down. Follow me into the coms room.” Upon arrival, Namjoon processes what had been said and his eyebrows furrow in reply. “Wait… His shirt? It was what?”

Jungkook makes an attempt to calm himself down, his rosy-tinted cheeks stained with wet tears. “Violet. It’s the last color on the spectrum.”

Namjoon shakes his head, now pacing back and forth. “This could only mean one thing…” He trails off, pondering the fact he discovered a new color on the spectrum. He scrolls through the portal and peers at the map, finding the different colors of the spectrum scattered across the city of Python. Every color except Violet.

“That’s why Thunder couldn’t pinpoint his location. Violet isn’t yet programmed into the software. Which means-”

“Firebird.” Jungkook slips.

Namjoon’s gaze snaps toward him with wide eyes, “Where did you get that name?”

“Viper said it. Firebird is looking for you.” He pauses, to let in a deep breath, “And you’d better get ready.” Jungkook groans in discomfort, a sharp shock of pain shooting through his side. He watches Namjoon’s figure, noticing the startled expression on his face.

No, it can’t be. There’s no way he was looking for him. Even if he was, why? After all this time, why now? And what was it that Namjoon had to prepare for?

And then everything came crashing down. “Shit,” Namjoon spills.

“Who is Firebird, anyway?” Jungkook questions with curiosity. A distinct chattering sound can be heard from Namjoon’s headset.

“Phoenix for Thunderbird! Do you copy?” Jimin chimes in with a slight tinge of frustration and worry clouding his being.

Ignoring Jungkook’s question, Namjoon places his headset back on.

“Go for Thunderbird.”

Jimin sighs in relief, “Oh, fuck. I thought I lost you for a sec.”

Namjoon shakes his head, “What’s going on?”

With a heaving, sweaty chest Jimin states, “We have a problem. A really, fucking, big one.” — his eyes keyed in and widening at the sight of what’s happening at the docks.

137 notes · View notes

taeyongdoyoung · 4 years ago

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summary: the forest is your only escape from the everyday troubles with your family until you find danger lurking behind the trees. or rather, danger finds you. your fateful encounter with the vampire ravn leaves you wishing for a different life. you strike an unexpected deal with the stranger that will soon turn into something more…

pairing: vampire!ravn x reader

side characters: leedo and seoho

genre: vampire!au, angst, romance, humour

warnings: kidnapping, cleithrophobia, manipulation, lies, human trashnaming, blood mentions, stabbing, swearing (like twice)

word count: 2.5k

author’s note: @mariuscheng i deeply apologize, you’ll see why *mwah*

part one 🌙 part two 🌙 part three 🌙 part four 🌙 part five 🌙 part six 🌙 part seven 🌙 part eight 🌙 part nine 🌙 part ten 🌙 part twelve 🌙epilogue

Minutes turned into hours and hours into days. You began to lose track of time. You had no idea how long you’d spent in this terrifying place where Leedo had taken you to. You just wanted to go back home. Not where your parents were, no. That had never felt like home. You wanted to be back in Ravn’s castle, in the safety of his arms. He was the one…well, not person, but rather being who had treasured you and cared for you like nobody else.

And no matter how hard you tried to convince Leedo that you would never change your mind and love him the way he wanted you to, he just refused to let you go. Which only frustrated you further. You felt like a bird in a cage and that feeling was the worst in the world. You needed to think of a way to escape. But how? These metal bars were so hard. And Leedo never let you out of sight. True, he never physically harmed you or forced you to do anything.

But the mere fact he had kidnapped you, taken you away from the place you called home was enough of a red flag to change your friendly feelings for him into something that resembled distrust and annoyance. Since you couldn’t find a way to escape, your only hope was that Ravn wouldn’t give up on you. Maybe he would come for you.

As more days passed by, you realized you were on your own. Harbouring hopes was foolish and would do you no good. You could either die or make peace with your current situation. Or…you could try something else entirely. Something wicked and a bit cruel, but it could work, nonetheless. And since you weren’t in the mood for dying and you weren’t one to give up so easily, you decided to go for it.

“I changed my mind,” you told Leedo one day, the lie coming out easily. “I’m willing to give you a chance. I can try…to love you like you need me to.”

Leedo eyed you suspiciously. He doubted the sincerity of your words. And for a good reason.

“Do you expect me to let you go, then? Just like that?”

Actually, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. But of course not. You weren’t that stupid.

“Someday, you will,” you responded, attempting to sound absolutely convinced by the validity of your statement. “Give it time.”

A desperate wish for it to be true appeared in Leedo’s stare. Good. Let him dream.

“Really? You’re willing to try?”

“I am if you are,” you lied once more. What’s another one? You’ve come so far…

“What about the vampire you claim you care about?” Leedo reminded you, which briefly troubled you. But you had to play your cards right if you wanted out of here. You had to deceive Leedo successfully in order to go back to the one you truly loved.

“Well, you were right about him. He’s just a cold-skinned bloodsucker. You could be so much better for me,” the words sent pangs of guilt down your spine as you pronounced them. You didn’t mean any of it, of course. But you had to try your best to convince Leedo you did. If you couldn’t escape on your own, you could manipulate him into letting you go. You only hoped that you were good enough an actress to make this work.

“I’m glad you’re finally beginning to see the error of your ways. We could be so good together, you and I.”

You resisted the urge to vomit. He was delusional. But you had to play along.

“Sure, we could. Now, tell me,” you murmured in what you were wishing sounded like a seductive voice, “What does a girl like me have to do to get some fresh air and a bit of sun around here?”

Leedo laughed. He obviously wasn’t as dumb as you’d hoped he’d turn out to be.

“Not yet. But we’ll get there, I promise. I’ve been very patient with you. What’s a couple more weeks?”

Weeks? If you had to spend another night in this godforsaken place, you would die. You had to get out of here soon or you would lose your mind.

“Right,” you attempted not to sound too crestfallen about it. “Well, until then, we could get to know each other better.”

Leedo smiled.

“What do you want to know?”

🌙🌙🌙

Ravn’s POV

As soon as I found Seoho, I told him everything that had happened and begged him to help me find her. I couldn’t live without her and I had no intention of letting her go. He listened to my pleas calmly, without saying a word. When I was finally done, he spoke:

“Of course, I will help you,” Seoho started. “Even though I don’t trust humans…”

“I’m sensing there’s a big but coming.”

“But I’m afraid we might be too late.”

“Too late?” I whispered, immediately panicking. “Is she dead? Did the werewolf do something to her?”

Seoho shook his head in a composed manner.

“That’s not what I meant. Too late as in…she might have betrayed your secret. You could be in danger, Ravn. You don’t want what almost happened to Xion to happen to you, do you?”

“Y/N’s not like that, I swear. She would never do this to me.”

“Alright, then. Do you have something of hers so that I could cast a locating spell?”

I nodded and handed him one of the books I’d gifted her a while ago. She would read from it every night before sleep. I figured it was her most prized possession.

“Shakespeare, huh?” Seoho chuckled. “Okay, just…go sit in the other room, don’t distract me and I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

I agreed, even though it was impossible for me to sit and stay calm in this current predicament. I was losing my mind. I had to find her soon. What if she was hurt? What if…I never got the chance to see her again? The chance to…tell her everything she meant to me…Tell her…

“She’s near the river in that forest of yours. In some sort of…prison cave,” Seoho informed me a while later.

I wasted no time and stormed out of the room without even bothering to thank my best friend. He’d understand, I told myself. But before I could make it outside of his house, Seoho had teleported next to me and grabbed my hand.

“Where do you think you’re going, lad?” he scolded me. “I’m coming with you.”

“I can’t ask you to…risk exposure. I know how much your secret means to you.”

Seoho obviously disagreed with me.

“You’re not asking. I’ll come on my own free will. You’re my best friend, Ravn. If you care about that foolish human, I feel it is my duty to help you out.”

“Seoho, you really don’t have to…”

“No time for arguing,” he shut me up. “And besides, me teleporting us there would be much faster than your vampire speed.”

I laughed wholeheartedly at his sensible observation.

“Lead the way, powerful wizard.”

Before I could blink, we were standing near the river. Closeby, there was indeed a cave that I had never seen before. I had heard rumours of its existence but never laid eyes upon it. So strange…I rushed ahead, eager to save Y/N from whatever torments that…dog had put her through. But before I could do so, Seoho stopped me once again.

“What now?” I complained because of his apparent eagerness to slow me down.

“Before we go in there, there’s something you should now.”

“Just say it already, the tension is killing me,” I groaned.

“Ravn. You’re already dead,” Seoho reminded me.

“Not helping, Seoho,” I sighed.

“Okay, okay, sorry. Y/N must be nearby so I…heard a fraction of her memories. She had just told that werewolf something very disturbing about you. I’m not sure I can even say it, it’s too vile.”

“Just go ahead,” I rolled my eyes. What could possibly be worse than losing her?

“She said and I quote here, so please, don’t get mad at the messenger ‘He’s just a cold-skinned bloodsucker. You could be so much better for me.’ Listen, man, it’s highly possible that her and the werewolf have been working against you. I told you that humans can’t be trusted!”

I shook my head, refusing to believe him.

“No, that can’t be true. Are you sure you heard it correctly? It must have been the wind or…”

Seoho, however, was determined that she had, in fact said that.

“I’m telling you, it’s best we get out of here. It could be a trap. We don’t know what we’re walking into, Ravn! Humans are such wicked creatures, it’s not safe.”

“No, no,” I repeated helplessly. “I can’t just leave her here. I love her, okay? And even if she doesn’t love me back, even if she did say these things about me, I still can’t let anything happen to her.”

Seoho scoffed in disbelief.

“It’s your funeral, mate.”

I shrugged.

“Like you said earlier. I’m already dead.”

I hurried towards the entrance of the cave.

“Then I’d rather die by your side than just stand outside like a coward!” Seoho yelled right behind me.

“If you’re scared for your life, you don’t have to come in. I won’t blame you, I’ll understand,” I reassured my friend.

“I’m not scared for my life. It’s you I’m worried about,” Seoho replied.

“While I’m sincerely touched,” I squeezed his arm. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Not against a werewolf, you’re not. Dumbass,” he added that last part affectionately.

“Well, two dumb brains are always better than one,” I joked and the two of us went inside.

🌙🌙🌙

Reader’s POV

This shit wasn’t working. You were being so nice and pliable to Leedo and he still hadn’t let you go! Ugh, men! You wanted out so badly but you couldn’t risk being too forthright about it or it would ruin all the careful planning, all the progress you’d been making so far. Just a few more days, you kept telling myself. Just a few more and he’d believe you. You had to be strong enough to continue with the lies, with the whole acting scheme. They would be successful. Or you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself. You missed everything so badly. You missed holding Ravn’s hand. You missed reading books in his big…library. You missed making flower crowns for him. You even missed him drinking your blood. To think that the one time you’d found a home for yourself…only to have it taken away from you so cruelly. It was really unfair. You had never before been in a situation where you had to deceive someone on purpose. You had never wished ill upon anyone. So, for whatever crimes you were being punished, you couldn’t help but get frustrated by the injustice of it all. Just when you were getting entirely lost in the memories, Leedo interrupted your thoughts.

“You know…I was thinking we could have a walk. I won’t let you out of my sight, so don’t try anything stupid.”

Was this actually happening? Or were you dreaming?

“Of course not. I told you already. I changed my mind.”

“Good,” Leedo gave you an encouraging smile, which you desperately wanted to wipe off his smug face. No sooner had he unlocked the metal door leading to the outside world, to the light, to freedom, than you heard unexpected noises coming from somewhere nearby. Was it possible? Had he really come for you?

Seconds later, you were greeted by a heavenly sight. Ravn and Seoho were only a couple of metres away from you. Never before had you felt so grateful to see such familiar faces! You immediately forgot all about your plan to deceive Leedo and rushed into Ravn’s arms. He let you hold him but didn’t say a word, simply welcoming you silently. But why? You had missed the sound of his voice.

“It was a trick, wasn’t it?” Leedo finally realized. “You never loved me, you just said all these things so I’d let you go, didn’t you?”

You gulped nervously and even though you didn’t want to leave the comfort of Ravn’s arms, you felt like you had to confront Leedo yourself.

“Yes, it was all a lie. I never meant any of it,” you confessed.

Ravn gave Seoho a pointed look, which at the time, you didn’t understand.

“Well, I don’t care. If I can’t have you, then neither can he,” Leedo attacked Ravn before you could register what was happening. You wished you could do something other than beg them to stop, but you were so scared that you could barely move. They were going to kill each other right in front of you and you were too frozen to think. Luckily, Seoho’s reflexes worked faster than yours. He hurriedly got between them, trying to make them stop. However, before he could do so, Leedo accidentally pierced him in the stomach with a blade that had somehow appeared from thin air and Seoho stumbled onto the ground. You ran to his side and knelt down next to the magician.

“Oh, God, are you okay?” you asked.

Seoho nodded weakly.

“I didn’t mean to stab him,” Leedo defended himself. “I meant to kill the bloodsucker!”

“Oh, right, ‘cause that makes us all feel so much better!” you hissed sarcastically.

“Just…stop fighting and ask the girl who she wants to be with, you imbeciles!” Seoho murmured before passing out.

“Shit,” you and Ravn swore simultaneously, desperately trying to help Seoho regain consciousness.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Leedo pointed out.

“Is that really your biggest concern right now?” you snapped at him. “Seoho could literally die because of you!”

Leedo looked away as if it wasn’t any of his concern. That bastard…

“I want to stay with Ravn and help Seoho, in case it wasn’t obvious,” you spelled it out.

Leedo nodded and started walking away wordlessly. In the meantime, you were pressing your hand against Seoho’s wound so that he wouldn’t die from the blood loss.

“If I ever see you again, I will kill you,” Ravn vowed, giving Leedo an icy glare.

“Likewise,” Leedo roared and left you all in that damn cave.

Once he was out of earshot, you noticed Ravn slowly backing away from Seoho.

“There’s so much blood,” he panted weakly.

“Fuck, I almost forgot,” you were worried for a second that Ravn would lose control. Despite the fact that Seoho was his best friend, it was only natural that he was disturbed by the smell and look of it.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Ravn closed his eyes, pained and ashamed to admit that he was so easily affected.

“You won’t. You should get out of here and bring me supplies from your castle. Herbs, medicine, anything you can find,” you sensibly suggested. “It’s my fault he got hurt in the first place. If it hadn’t been for my friendship with Leedo, none of this would have happened,” you couldn’t help but blame yourself for it all.

“It’s not your fault you see the good in people. And…I’ll do what you asked. We’ll talk more when I return, promise.”

You nodded.

“I’ll stay with Seoho and try to stop the bleeding.”

“Thank you,” Ravn said and ran outside at the speed of light.

To be continued…

#oneus #ravn #ravn x reader #twilight #oneus fanfic #kim youngjo #leedo #seoho #ravn angst #romance #vampire au #vampires #writing

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whereflowersbloom · 5 years ago

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I liked you first

Part 4

Fuck. She was getting closer, he could hear the echo of her footsteps walking across the hall. He was positive she was on her way to his table. This had to be a fucking joke. Damian looked around and tried to convince himself it was his mind playing tricks on him. Perhaps it was the wine. Definitely he’d blame the wine. However he knew it wasn’t possible. He had only had one glass. Furthermore he developed a high tolerance for alcohol. There was no way he was drunk. At all. Damian has met beautiful women the past years. Attending Galas, charity events, and suchlike, as a Wayne. He did what was expected of him. Some were dates, others one night stands to satisfy his carnal needs as any other man. Every single one meaningless. Yet, they were nothing compared to this dazzling beauty before his sharp eyes. Pure and innocent as beautiful. Delicate as porcelain. This couldn’t be Rachel Kent. Jonathan’s sister. His date tonight. The simple idea seemed inconceivable.

He felt a warmth rising from within, a low gentle burn starting at his core, and stretching out into his limbs. He doesn’t recognize it, or possibly his logical mind refused to acknowledge it. He tenses, the sound around him mutes.

Rachel was too nervous to interpret the expression on his handsome face. She took a few deep breaths to slow down her racing heart. The unsettling feeling that's been building up in her since she entered the restaurant takes on new edges. An uncomfortable awareness of something she can’t quite put words to gnawing at the back of her mind. His penetrating gaze probably. There she was, standing in front of him. The man that stole her heart when she was a timid, troubled child, covering her affection with indifference. She longed to run her fingers through his dark hair. It looked so silky. His lips seemed to beckon to her to be kissed. Oh the dream of her teenage years.

“Damian.” She breathed torn between joy and agitation at seeing him for the first time in over ten years.

Fucking Richard Grayson. Damian swears in his head. She’s there. She’s right in front of him and he’s paralyzed, stunned. She was moving her rosy lips. God, he’d beg for a taste, those full lips were made for his. To be kissed properly. He found himself unable to hear a sound. His surroundings, her voice, nothing. His attention and thoughts too focused on those electric blue eyes. How intense and beautiful they are. All of her. She embodied the essence of everything that was supremely, exquisitely, unbelievably stunning. Becoming a beauty incarnate. Say something he commanded his body. It didn’t respond. Her expression showed concern, confusion, she must think he was ignoring her. Fuck.

“Oh.” Was all he managed to mutter. Seven hells. Is that all he can come up with? What in the world was happening to him? Facing a gorgeous woman and suddenly he was speechless, behaving like an inexperienced teenager. It was unacceptable.

He tried to focus again. Damn it. She folded her arms, her forehead shifting. It became immediately obvious to Damian that his staring wasn’t as subtle as he’d been hoping and he gave her the impression he was giving her the cold shoulder. How wrong she was. “Damian?” His hearing was finally back. He snapped out of it.

He cleared his throat, he was a complete mess. “Rachel?” He asked in disbelief. He wasn’t himself. All kind of thoughts swirling around his head. She nodded, smiling at him. He took a deep breath. It had to be a joke. He had to be sure it wasn’t an hallucination. “Rachel Kent?” He asked again, blinking incredulous. What was that in his voice? Was he stumbling over his words?

“Well, unless you were expecting another Rachel Kent.” She raised her eyebrows, blue eyes twinkling with humor, mildly puzzled by his actions.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear innocently and stretched her hand, offering it to him. It took him a whole minute to process what was happening and react. He shook his head and hesitantly took her tiny, pale hand. Damian was acutely aware of the exact moment their hands touched. He tried not to get caught up in the way her palm, her skin was so soft. He was touching her, even if it went in the places he wished to. Then he felt annoyed at himself for noticing it. The little jolt warming his skin beneath their joined hands. It was just a handshake. Nothing, Something he did on daily basis with dozens a of people.

“So, mind if I sit down now?” She gestured the chair, asking shyly. A smile tugs at her lips.

He wanted to punch himself. Where were his manners. Alfred would be utterly disappointed and tell him he should be ashamed of his behavior. He attempted to stand up but his feet failed him and lost balance at the last minute. He avoided the fall, grabbing the edge of the table. Thanks to his quick reflexes. He was terribly embarrassed and furious. He cursed in his mind again. A waiter approached him and asked him if he was alright or needed anything. He dismissed him cordially, saying he was fine and it wasn’t necessary. He regained composure and helped his date sit in her chair. Tsk. He was infinitely grateful his siblings weren’t there to witness it.

He sat down again, shifting in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He was angry at himself, his ridiculous actions, lack of self-control. It infuriates him.

Rachel covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a giggle. It was the first time in a long time she’s seen Damian Wayne being clumsy. Even when they were kids, he was a natural leader, a prodigy, genius. Always doing everything flawlessly, mastering every activity or task. Growing up she couldn’t help but feel inadequate. She was eager to see new sides of him. He appeared to be so perfect, it pained her at times. This was so human. Was he okay though?

Rachel was looking at him worried. “Are you alright?” She reaches out to touch his hand, it was her first instinct, but he instantly moved his arm away, avoiding her touch. It was a reflex. He didn’t mean to. Their eyes lock, hers full of emotion, was that disappointment, sadness in those shinning eyes? He loses himself in those clear, deep blue wells.a part of him wants to look away, hide his embarrassed at his reaction to her touch. But there it was this foreign feeling. It was killing him, annihilating his sanity, slowly. Without mercy.

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled. Guilt. He felt guilt. He was trying to regain control of his actions and emotions.

“No apology necessary.” She sighed, did her best to smile sincerely. But anyone could see the truth through her eyes. Those weren’t the words she'd been hoping he'd say, but she it was her mistake for assuming she could touch him. This was better than fighting. And she had promised herself she wouldn't hold him to her selfish expectations? It was nobody’s fault Damian didn’t want her. Wasn't even his, if she was being honest with herself. Just because she harbors romantic feelings for him...it didn't mean he was obligated to reciprocate those feelings.

Damian’s senses were reeling. He tried to speak but found words has scattered from his mind. Never in his life had the sight of a woman affected him to this point. Not even remotely. He was so taken taken aback by her unadorned beauty, that he was undeniably drunk in her loveliness. This strange, sick feeling was making him lose his cool, his control.

Words bubbles up in his throat, he swallowed them down, gulping air like fish out of the water. For the very first time in his life he felt like a fish out of water. He didn’t know what words to pronounce, dominate his emotions or actions. He was Damian Wayne, he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He was raised to achieve success and excellence. One look at her and he loses it. Shit. His head was throbbing.

“I know it’s been a long time.” She says quietly, looking down, avoiding eye contact with him.

This encounter had fractured his composure, and with the floodgates broken, Damian was struggling not to drown in his emotions. There she was again, avoiding him, like when they were children. It was irritating, not knowing the reason she despise him, or what in the seven hells did he do? He let out a pained snarl, struggling to overpower a foreign sensation clawing up his chest that was making it difficult to breathe.

“Why? Why did you agree to this date with me?” He asked coldly, frustrated, agitated. He needed answers now.

This caught her attention, getting back to reality. Rachel’s eyes open wide. “I thought it was an opportunity to get to know each other.” She said in a quiet tone, almost in a whisper. She was biting her lower lip.

“Oh really? Because 10 years ago if I recall correctly you didn’t seem interested. You hated me.” He bit out, eyes narrowed falling on her figure. Hurt battling with anger, but anger was easier to cling to. He was releasing all his frustration but he didn’t care at the moment. He started clenching and unclenching his left fist. He needed to hit something. Or better yet, someone.

“I never hated you, Damian. It’s complicated, if you let me explain.” She panicked, tried to come up with an explanation, make him understand. She was a immature and naive child back then. If only he knew how she truly felt about him. He interrupted her

“What game are you playing, Rachel? I’m not a fucking toy or chess piece?” He snarled loudly. They weren’t kids anymore. She couldn’t treat him this way. He wouldn’t allow it. He was breathing heavily. He lost his temper in a public place. Oh no.

“You don’t have to be an asshole. If you didn’t want to come, you should’ve said it.” She countered. She felt broken, shaken, hurt, she held her gaze with his own hard, furious eyes. The pain nearly ripped her heart out. This was obviously a mistake. She gaved a whine of anger and frustration, eyes growing glassy.she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. She stamped her foot, more tears falling.

“Damn you, Damian Wayne!” With those last words she rose from her sit, and walked away from him. She couldn’t look at him. Wiping her eyes as she retreated, leaving behind Damian and that disaster.

Fuck. He did it this time. He wants to slam his fist down on to the table. Realization of what he had caused. She was right. He didn’t comprehend why he had been an asshole. There had to be other ways to keep her at arms length. It wasn’t fair to her to behave like this. He could be nice to her, considerate and it didn’t have to mean anything. Except it did.

It hurts so bad to want a woman so much. To have her right in front of you, her alluring eyes, full cheeks, delicate features, this glorious creature, and they were so far away. In mind, personality, perspective. In every possible way he could think of. And he was disrespectful, rude, nasty. Because he didn’t understand his own feelings.

It was desire. He wanted Rachel, had wanted her the moment he laid his eyes on her as he’d listened to his newly-revived heart pounding hot blood into his ears, he didn’t know how to deal with the need to have her, mind, body, and soul. It was all new to him. But he wanted her. Dick could kick his ass after all. He deserved it. Except he had to fix this. He had to apologize, plead for another opportunity.

“Rachel! Rachel wait!” Abruptly, his feet started obeying, rushing off to chase after his date. His heart pounding, as he ran across the hall. He could catch up to her still. He had to. He regretted his words before. This date meant everything. Fucking Richard Grayson. If he managed to get Rachel to forgive him. He’d have to genuinely thank him.

Notes: don’t worry it’s the first part of the date 😂😂😂🥺🥺🙈🙈🙈😭😭❤️❤️

#im sorry not sorry #blind date au #i liked yiu first #damirae #demon birds #damian x raven #damian wayne #raven is a kent #raven roth #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #jon kent #clark kent #eventual smut #writing #dc universe #dc fandom #teen titans

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ranmanjuu · 4 years ago

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Hello! I really enjoy you Gen Z MC headcanons a lot! Can you make headcanons for Non-Native/American MC? Like, Japanese isn’t her first language and while she got some words and phrases down, she still struggles a lot. Especially with saying names correctly. So, she give our warlords silly nicknames or just completely pronounces it word. Just with the Oda Forces right now. Thank you!

thanks for the request! as someone who's bilingual and Fluent in None, i'll try my best lol. and iirc sengoku japan has some differences in their writing than modern japan, but i'm Not sure to what extent because i'm no Expert™. and this is from my personal experience, so not everything may apply (aha i'm no american)

—oda forces with non-native/american mc

—nobunaga:

consider him intrigued! he’s met a few portugese men and a few other nationalities from the west trading, but he didn’t expect his fireball to be one!

pre-learning you came from the future, he was a bit confused on why some of your words sound different than what the others were speaking. it’s still japanese, he knows that for a fact, but it’s slightly different.

your responses in conversation come slowly, and sometimes not even correctly. he sees the way you kind of falter each time someone corrects you, then steel your eyes in resolve in speaking correctly. he’ll wait for them patiently all the same.

if you’re ever to use a phrase wrong or say a word you didn’t mea nto say, he’ll let out a loud guffaw. he doesn’t correct you (most times), it’s a bit entertaining how a sentence can sound funny to him while you remain clueless.

if it’s of any need, or perhaps you asked for it (because japanese was already hard, the fact that it has differences from the one you were learning adds to the weigh), he will order to have someone tutor you.

as time passes, you become more and more fluent. and by then, nobunaga will invite you to his tenshu on sleepless nights, and demands that you tell him how your country is. it’s land, the culture, anything and everything. and he’ll listen in very carefully—he really is interested.

when the two of you are alone, he often encourages you to “do it how you do in your land.” it’s a way of learning more outside japan, and learning more about you! in a time when you’re stressed with all the shocks, he wants his fireball to be comfortable at least.

sometimes he goes above and beyond once you’re in a relationship. you can’t use chopsticks and prefer to use cutlery? well, the portugese had a supply, so he got ‘em. you want a specific fabric that isn’t available in the market and maybe even the country in general? trades, baby!

he’s a bit interested in some of your words, even if he can’t exactly use them in japanese. (we talkin things like “y’all”, etc.)

you call him “naga”, mostly due to the “nobu” part heavily influenced by your accent. you’re the only one who he’ll allow to call him that.

and if anyone, even another daimyo, comments about your foreignity, they’ll have to face with him personally.

—hideyoshi:

as any other time, he still suspects you. hideyoshi doesn’t doubt that you’re a foreigner—the clothes you wore and lack of knowledge of most things seems to prove it. but that doesn’t mean you’re not dangerous.

so, for the first few days, he tailed you everywhere. and he got to be a witness of your struggles in mostly language. even talking to the maids become a challenge as you stumble across your sentences and still make mistakes. he saw how, when you don’t manage to get what you want to say across, you just shook your head dejectedly with a small, “sorry, nevermind.”

his suspicion picked away slowly from that point. but it wasn’t gone; he just felt immensely guilty for tailing you now.

until, one day, you walked into a soldier harshly scolding a maid. what’s the matter? something about...sword training...’not supposed to do that, you’re a woman’...? the longer you listen and try to decipher it, the more you hear some sexist bullshit. and you were not tolerating.

“hey, stop that!” the two looked at you now, and only after you said that did you realize you’re gonna have to make your argument in japanese,”what if she want to.. sword... practice...”

as you went on, your voice died and your grasp of the language seems to fade away. the soldier took advantage, and swept in like an eagle, “hah, what do you know about fighting, huh?! much less speaking japanese!”

you stopped right there, your heart stung and twisting. the air became suffocating, shrinking down your body and blurring the world. thankfully, hideyoshi, who’s seen everything, stepped in. your vision only regained once the soldier and maid were gone, with hide speaking as soft as he’s ever been, “are you okay?”

with reassurance from you, he apologizes, and so comes to an agreement to start over. from then on, he became the overbearing mother he is.

he’s always looking after you whenever he can. aiding you in speaking, teaching you some basic customs, all that jazz. worry plagues him 24/7 about you, what if you got kidnapped, or what if a ronin attacked you because of accidental provoking?!

you had to spend a long, long time convinving him you were fine.

he always reinforces the, “say the t word instead of sorry” principle if you apologize because of your lack of knowledge.

you often call him “yoshi” now (same pronounciation as yoshi from mario lol) since you spent,, so long calling the ‘hide” part like hide in hide n’ seek.

and while he doesn’t tolerate people who make any bad remarks about you, if it’s someone like a daimyo, he’ll hold it in and curse them to hell afterwards.

—mitsuhide:

a little mouse from another land, hm? this’ll be interesting.

he often teases you at first. it’s a bit inviting, how you keep mixing up words and he could make you think it’s correct, delivering a message that was misspelled, and even telling you to write something (the japanese writing system,,,, shudders)

but if it genuinely upsets you, he will tone it down.

ntb cruel, but he finds it a bit charming of how helpless you are at times. a jittery little mouse, walking around the castle.

he’s quite baffled at the lack of knowledge you have. he understands it a bit, but even so, the teasings don’t stop. “my my, we have a long way to go ahead, don’t we little mouse?”

the princess lessons he gives include learning japanese, the customs (using chopsticks, bowing, etc.), and everything you should at least know. it’s often very taxing, and mitsuhide is a very strict teacher, but sometimes you wouldn’t change it for the world.

when he congratulates you at something, it feels weirdly fulfilling. he doesn’t give them often, only if you’ve done a wonderful job, but his words make your heart flutter and encourage you to do better.

man would definitely know what you’re talking about if you speak your language. he’s the mvp spy for the oda, i’d wager he knows some other languages. so if you’re muttering to yourself, be prepared to have a mitsuhide appear out of thin air and make a comment about it

and he doesn’t,, really help you at times. like when you know a word in your mother tongue, but you just can’t think about what the japanese is—all the he says is, “my, i wonder what it is.”

you just glare at him half-heartedly.

that being said, secret conversations that (most of the time) only you two know about happens here and there. maybe during a mission, he’ll whisper something into your ear with your mother language (mitsuhide is totally the type to pretend to be shit talking someone while he’s actually having a normal conversation, so)

as you two become closer, he becomes painfully aware of how vulnerable you can be, especially with someone in his position. if you were kidnapped or anything of the sorts, you can have more trouble with your captors,,

in short, he’s often very Protective of you if he needs to.

if anyone scrutinizes you in any way because of the whole foreign thing? well,, they won’t be seen ever again :)

you pronounce hide the same way like in hideyoshi’s. you called him like that,, for the longest time,,, and he still hasn’t lived it down.

despite there being two mitsus, you call mitsuhide “mitsu” (sometimes as ‘mizu’ if your tongue slips)

—ieyasu:

he’s very ice cold (as anytime at first) to you, the whole “useless waif” thing multiplying in his salt.

you did bear with it during the first few days, but if it starts getting to you and making you visibly upset, ieyasu will slowly notice. he feels a bit bad, and the ‘avoiding people’ part of him told him to just leave it be and avoid you. but after seeing some instances of you trying your absolute best and looking so crestfallen if you’ve done the slightest bit wrong, his hearts feels obligated to apologize.

well,, apologize in his term. in his own roundabout way, he invited you to feed wasabi. most of the time it was silence, but somehow, it felt nice. comfortable.

in the end, both of you finally said something, and at the same time. “uhm, ’yasu—” / “look—”

you two paused, and ieyasu looked away while you held back a chuckle. “i really enjoy this. thank you.”

your enunciation was still slipping, but the smile you sent left him almost speechless. only after you tilt your head in confusion did he go back to reality, scoffing to the side, “whatever. i don’t care what you think about this.”

it’s a bit maddening at times; you were like another mitsunari, but instead of misprocessing what he said, you often just didn’t understand. all the insults flew over your head because you didn’t know any of them. it’s like, a part of the reason why you’re so hard-headed to spend time with him.

if he were honest, he felt a bit bad seeing your state. as someone who spent time being vulnerable and having to force the world to give him a space of his own, seeing you reminded him or himself. maybe that’s part of the reason he agreed to teach you some medicine,, he wanted to give you a place. even if that place was him.

he’s very often protective of you, in his own, indirect way. he walks with you to the market even if you insist you can do it yourself, he jumps in each time you look like you need help with language��it’s a bit adorable.

you call him “yasu” or “yass” (more often the latter). the “ie” part really confused you, and while the warlord himself couldn’t care less of what you call him, you’re the only one who can nickname him like that.

—masamune:

just like mitsuhide, the man’s quite excited to see what would come from you. while you couldn’t really tell anyone off in japanese, you definitely did that in your language. and while masamune didn’t know what you said, but by the expressions you made, it was enough.

ngl, that part of you made him take you less seriously.

i’d imagine it’d be quite hard for you to keep up with him, even in just a normal conversation

he doesn’t mind the slip-ups (which can make your sentences range from bizzare to just absolute rude) and it actually fishes out a loud laugh from him. but if you happen to talk to anyone from his clan like that, even unintentionally, you’ll be in a lot of a pickle.

and by pickle i mean near death experience.

first time he saw you fumble around with your chopsticks cluelessly (and using them in less efficient ways), he didn’t understand at first, but was quick to teach you. how else were you supposed to eat and savor the flavor?

speaking of that,, since you aren’t really familiar with japanese food, you kinda dined blindly without knowing which part of the food tastes like what. masamune thought he was facing another mitsu and almost had a heart attack.

he’d gladly tell you what tastes good with what, how you should eat it, etc. etc. man would definitely feed it to you and tease you heavily while he’s at it

you’d often ask him what some foods were, even the most common. masamune gaped at you when you innocently asked him what a ‘dango’ is. and most times, you’d find the same thing on the dinner table later.

still on the topic of food, you can absolutely tell him the food from your country! actually, given the ingredients and basic instructions, he’ll absolutely make it for you if you feel homesick.

you call him “moon”, coming from how you said the “mune” part like you would in english rules (like in commune, etc.) he really liked the nickname, and it eventually stuck.

(irrelevant but you also said “date” like,, y’know, the english words date.)

(^ some puns came from that)

—mitsunari:

the first time you came to the senoku era, you were confused, but most of all, panicked. when mitsunari raised the hypothesis that you were a foreigner, you managed to catch on that one word. in a response, you pointed at him and just nodded, hoping the others would get what you were saying.

from then on, he was the first to start talking to you slowly and use basic words he’d hope you understood. in discussions where you were left in the dark, mitsunari would take the time to turn to you and explain it slowly.

you felt absolutely grateful and indebted to him. as such, no objections were raised as you were appointed as his caretaker.

through the,, trial and tribulations (him mistaking you for kitty, the almost impossible reading-trance he had), you kept patience over it all. he made you feel the most welcome, this was a way to repay him.

mitsunari himself saw you as a saint; you didn’t have to be so nice to him. he knows how unbearable he can be in terms of taking care of, it’d be way easier for you to just get it done in the fastest way possible. you absolutely objected to that, he helped you, you’d help him now.

his admiration just grew. he saw you as so, so strong and brave, held in a castle with a language you didn’t know much with customs you were a stranger to. on top of that, you were so kind and patient with those who needed help, despite your own troubles. it wasn’t love yet, but a deep-seeded admiration.

i’d like to think he knows enough of your language to hold a normal conversation in it, maybe from the books shipped from the portugese and the likes. other than sasuke, he was the one who you could just let go the worries and stress of language in talking.

to repay your repayment (which is,,,,.. nvm) he offered to help you learn japanese and the common customs. the tiny “really...?” you said, along with the slightly widened eyes littered with stars; it was something mitsunari’d never forget.

he’d always be supportive and understanding, explaining things over and over again until you understood. he’s the best teacher you could ask for.

when he started avoiding you so he could focus on work (and figure out why he feels so weird around you,,), you felt the most devastated you’ve been through your stay. he felt like the someone who you could feel the most close and safe with.

even as some people started secretly scrutinizing you as a foreigner princess, dear oblivious mitsunari kept respecting your appointed title. if someone made a rude comment about it, he’d strictly (which to him is just say it with a straight face and serious tone) remind that you rightly held the position.

you call him “navi”. at first, it was “nari” but the dull R slipped into a v somehow, and the nickname sounded pleasant to you and him. and so it stuck

—ranmaru:

the first time you met him, it was when he hid behind you to avoid being killed. you gained just enough knowledge to understand what the guard was saying, and without much thought, jumped in. in a moment of panic from the thought of ‘this man’s life is kind of in my hands’, the stuttering and incorrect japanese switched into your fluent mother language. your mind flowed clearly by using words you were familiar with.

and while the guards didn’t understand (or anything, really), someone stepped in and deescalated the situation.

next time you saw him, you were glad to know that he was alive. he dismissed your apology of a poor defense for him considering it was in a foreign language with a gigantic hug, to which you just melted and laughed for the first time since coming.

he quickly understood that you had trouble understanding japanese, and tried to speak slower and clearer. tried. in moments of excitement, his speech would become faster and faster—to which you’d have to stop and ask him to repeat.

as your knowledge of japanese grew and grew, your conversations turned more and more fun. while you had small slip-ups, both of you would often stay in your room discussing whatever topic came to mind.

i think ranmaru would be interested in your country—what’s it like, how’s the food? are they delicious? you just laughed at his fascination and explained (more of you ranting on) many things. you missed the place, you very much do. seeing your slightly nostalgic face, ranmaru pulled you in a hug. stunned silence, your voice only came back as a weak chuckle.

“your country sounds great, my lady! i wish we can visit it someday!” he’d then say. and despite how different it’d be now than modern day, you still humored it together. “i promise.”

he’d also be gaping at how you don’t know some foods—but as opposed to masamune, he’d drag you out to town and dine at a teahouse. you’re working? it can be done later, come on!

he introduced you to many things, and you were immensely grateful for it. you couldn’t ask for a better, hyperactive friend.

due to your tongue used to the dull R, rather than a sharp R, you often just,, slurred his name into unintelligible mumbles. but now, from his own suggestion, you call him an-kun. (though more an-chan. it sounds cuter is all)

as the reveal of him being a traitor eventually came, you didn’t know what to do. you’ve known for a while; but never how to approach it. ranmaru was already prepared to take out his own life, but never in your life can you accept it.

“an-chan, weren’t we going to visit my country together,,?!” the begging, desperate voice from you made him stop in his tracks, spilling the tears from his wide eyes. they scrunch up; softer than ever.

“.... yeah. our promise, wasn’t it?” after some thought, he steeled himself up and looked you in the eyes with a new resolve, “... i’ll make sure it can be fulfilled, my lady. just—please wait for me, alright?”

#ikemen sengoku #cyikemen #ikesen #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen hideyoshi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen masamune #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen oda forces #oda forces #*writing #*request #haslghsag i'm so sorry this was late #was an absolute clown and lost half progress... and took longer than i thought to rewrite it #river-ride

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